Without saying words we agree to split up and search in opposite directions. I head to the left and he heads to the right. I tromp over the uneven ground, slipping a couple of times. Even with the dim light of evening, it’s hard to get around.

Each drop of water that hits me feels like a slap in the face.

I keep going.

As I near the cliff, it turns into pure rock. I get this strange feeling as I walk closer, this sense that I’m testing the knife’s edge of my mortality. One slip, and I’d go over. One fall, and I’d break my neck. I don’t have the luck or the nine lives of a kitten. If I fell forty feet, I would die.

Morbid fear has me creeping closer so I can peek over the edge. In a moment of panic, I can almost imagine seeing her—a small broken body at the bottom where the water meets rock. The flash of red and black, the colors she loves to wear.

There’s nothing down there.

I pull myself back and continue walking along the water line. In the distance I can see mist covering a red lighthouse. I wonder if Paige can see it from where she is right now.

“Paige,” I call, though the wind whips my voice away to nothing. I keep shouting for her until I turn hoarse. Then I start making little kissy sounds for the kitten. “Kitten. Where are you?”

A meow trickles through the air.

I whip my head to the right, wondering if I imagined it.

“Kitten? Paige! Where are you?”

The meow comes again, and I start running, slipping and sliding over the terrain to get to her. I find her sitting in a forlorn little pile at the foot of a tree. I glance around, anxious to see Paige. Nothing. A faint crack comes from above. I look up and see her skirt hanging off a branch about ten feet off the ground.

“Oh my God. Paige. Are you okay?”

She peeks over the edge, her expression torn between anger and fear. It’s not a coincidence that she ran away while I was on the phone with her school. She must have overheard me. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone. Just leave me alone.”

“God, you must be freezing. How long have you been out here? This whole time?”

Quiet sobbing is the only answer. It would be easy to be angry at a child for being disobedient. I saw it often enough in the foster homes where I lived. It’s much harder to deal with the pain underneath. And she has so much pain.