I grew weary, and John made me stop and drink from a flask he had in his saddlebag, and eat bread and cheese. He called the men in, passed out their rations, sent them off again. Neither had anything to report. He watched me finish the small meal, a wry smile on his face.

“Good,” he said. “You run yourself too hard, Jenny; the body cannot go on working forever, if you neglect it. I wish I could help you with this task. You’re a small girl to do such labor. How much more?”

I had one bundle complete and tied up neatly further down the gully. I indicated, another the same, then we might go home. John nodded.

“Try holding your knife this way,” he said, showing me. “Good. It makes a cleaner cut, and that will wear less on your hands. By God, whoever set this task on you has much to answer for.”

This was as vehement a statement as I had ever heard him utter. His kind, worn face was creased with concern. I gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. It’s all right. I can manage.

I held the knife as he had shown me. It helped a bit. Fresh blisters developed on those parts of my hands that were not already too scarred to damage further. I felt the sweat running down my back and between my breasts and across my brow. But it was easy to put the pain aside. Simply focus the mind on the goal: my brothers, safe, back in this world as men again. The unraveled tapestry mended, the seven streams flowing together, the converging paths again joined as one. I moved further downstream, seeking flatter ground where the plant could be more easily reached.

I sensed it just before it happened, for there was a sudden chill in the air, an instant of wrongness that made the hair stand on end and the spine freeze. But so quick; no time to move, to draw breath, to warn; no time to think, even, of what might be coming. Then the roaring, crashing sound of a great quantity of earth and rock moving with speed; something knocking me off my feet, hurling me to the ground. I struck my head, and for a moment everything went black. Then an awareness of the sound dying away as swiftly as it began; my heart pounding in my chest, a sharp pain in my left ankle. I opened my eyes, blinking and choking, for my face, my whole body was covered with earth and dust, and the air around me was full of small particles lit by the sun to a dazzling gold. Overhead, birds still called and little clouds still scudded in a bright blue sky. Nearby, there was an eerie silence.

I struggled to sit up, but something was holding my ankle down. In front of me, I could see the sack still spread, the starwort stems laid neatly across, the glint of the knife where I had dropped it. The other bundle, carefully rolled ready for collection. Beyond this, the streambed, the ferns, the small trees still stood. I twisted around. And behind me, everything was gone. Everything. I stared, scarcely able to take it in. Where the gully had cut into the hillside, bisected by the green-fringed stream, there was now a huge expanse of tumbled rocks and soil and bare roots. Up above, a great raw gash scarred the hillside, as if a slice of living rock had been crudely carved out and flung carelessly downward. Had it come two strides further, I would have been crushed. It had been so quick; so quick.