“Mavelle?”

     She heard her younger sister’s voice but her eyes refused to open. 

     “Mavelle?  Mavelle, it’s me Lovena.”

     “Oh, for pity’s sake.  Quit it.  I’m sick of hearing you calling her name.”

     That voice could only be Sarah’s, Mavelle thought as she tried to move.  A sharp pain sliced through her side.  She moaned and opened her eyes only to have them stabbed with a bright light.  She slammed them shut.

     A cold cloth, covered her eyes and a gentle hand smoothed her hair.  “You’re alive, dear sister.  Rest now.”

     Mavelle drifted off to sleep.

     The voice grated through her veil of sleep like a farrier’s rasp.  “We’ll never get out of here.  She was our last hope.”

     “Shut up, Sarah.”  Mavelle sat up.  “I wasn’t out there alone.  I had help.”  If Cragger and McDougal are still alive, that is.  She didn’t dare voice that aloud.

     Lovena ran to her side.  “Are you okay?”

     “I’ll live.”

     “Not for long if our rocky friend has anything to say about it,” said Sarah.

     “Always the pessimist.”  Mavelle tipped an imaginary hat to Sarah.  “Lovena, what do we have?”

     “I’ve made three slingshots exactly the way you taught me to do.  Even though Sarah had no petticoats to spare for the job, I managed by using all of mine and part of yours.  We have a fire pit and every scrap of wood I could find I stacked near it.  I couldn’t get one started.  I hope you have more skill.  There’s no food, but we have water.”