suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

mished now, and not just for leaves and berries but for the fat
and protein in the meat. The trip to the stream is uneventful.
Once there, I refill my water and wash, taking particular care
with my injured ear. Then I travel uphill using the stream as a
guide. At one point, I find boot prints in the mud along the
bank. The Careers have been here, but not for a while. The
prints are deep because they were made in soft mud, but now
they’re nearly dry in the hot sun. I haven’t been careful
enough about my own tracks, counting on a light tread and the
pine needles to conceal my prints. Now I strip off my boots
and socks and go barefoot up the bed of the stream.
The cool water has an invigorating effect on my body, my
spirits. I shoot two fish, easy pickings in this slow-moving
stream, and go ahead and eat one raw even though I’ve just
had the groosling. The second I’ll save for Rue.
Gradually, subtly, the ringing in my right ear diminishes until
it’s gone entirely. I find myself pawing at my left ear periodically,
trying to clean away whatever deadens its ability to collect
sounds. If there’s improvement, it’s undetectable. I can’t
adjust to deafness in the ear. It makes me feel off-balanced
and defenseless to my left. Blind even. My head keeps turning
to the injured side, as my right ear tries to compensate for the
wall of nothingness where yesterday there was a constant
flow of information. The more time that passes, the less hopeful
I am that this is an injury that will heal.
When I reach the site of our first meeting, I feel certain it’s
been undisturbed. There’s no sign of Rue, not on the ground
or in the trees. This is odd. By now she should have returned,
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