When she found a young tree with strong, flexible limbs, she chose a curved piece for the bow and some long, straight branches for arrows. And then she had a thought. She cut more branches and split them apart. She began to weave a sort of basket, square, with sides, top, and bottom about the length of her arm. She wove it tightly, with small openings between the slats. When she came back to the pool where Po still sat and Bitterblue still scrambled for firewood, she carried the basket on one shoulder, and the quail and the branches under her other arm. She cut a couple of lengths of rope and tied them to the edges of her basket. She lowered the basket into the pool, just deep enough that it couldn’t be seen, and tied the ropes to the base of a bush on shore. Then she pulled off her boots, her coat, and her trousers, and prepared herself once more for the icy shock of the water.

She dived. She hung suspended under the water, and waited, and waited. When a fish flashed nearby, she grabbed. She swam to the basket and slid back the slats. She squeezed the wriggling fish inside and fastened the slats again. She dived back down, snatched another fish, swam to shore, and deposited the squirming body into the basket. She caught fish for Po; so many fish that by the time she was done, the basket swarmed with their crowded bodies.

“You may have to feed them,” she said, once she’d returned to shore and dressed. “But they should last you some time.”

“And now you must go,” Po said.

“I want to make you crutches first.”

“No,” Po said. “You’ll go now.”

“I want—”

“Katsa, do you think I want you to go? If I’m telling you to go it’s because you must.”

She looked into his face, and then looked away. “We need to divide our belongings,” she said.

“Bitterblue and I have done that.”

“I must dress your shoulder one last time.”

“The child has already done so.”

“Your water flask—”

“It’s full.”

Bitterblue came over the top of the rise then and joined them. “The cabin is bursting with firewood,” she said.

“It’s time for you to go,” Po said, and he leaned forward, balanced himself, and stood. Katsa bit back her protests and gave him her shoulder. Bitterblue untied the horse, and they made their way back to the cabin.

Your balance is better, Katsa thought to him. Come with us.

“Cousin,” Po said, “don’t let her run the horse ragged. And be sure she sleeps and eats every once in a while. She’ll try to give all the food to you.”

“As you have done,” Bitterblue said, and Po smiled.

“I’ve tried to give you most of the food,” he said. “Katsa will try to give you all of it.”

They stopped at the entrance to the cabin, and Po leaned back against the door frame. Come with us, Katsa thought as she stood before him.