Mina, Edvard, and Yuila face the previous day’s events.
If you’re just joining this story, you may want to start from the beginning. Read into the world of shadows and mirrors.
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The night passed sleeplessly for each of them. Edvard knew this because what brief sleep he got was broken by Yuila's soft sobbing on the other side of Mina. He watched the early suns' light begin across the amber skies to the east, spreading through the sparse treetops above them. As it did, the shatten that sat on a low branch in the tree above them came into focus.
Edvard wondered how much the bird had eaten of the moldy bread Mina had thrown into the weeds a few trees away. Probably most of it, greedy thing.
He looked to where Mina was still sleeping beside him, her dark hair loosened from the tie and comb. For a long moment he watched her sleep, her eyelashes moving slightly, and he wondered if she was dreaming. Probably of home, he thought. He saw her fingers half curl in the blanket. He still couldn't believe she'd maimed—probably killed—the charging bicklath bull.
He didn't know how he was going to take her home if he couldn't find her homeland. And she was the only thing worth the journey anymore to him.
Slowly he sat up and moved aside the blanket, cursing lowly at the pain racking his hands. The hour spent digging yesterday and having them remain motionless all night left them stiff and excruciatingly painful. He didn't look at them too closely; he'd wait for Mina to help with the bandaging.
He looked across her to see Yuila's bedroll empty, unmade. Out of habit his attention snapped to alert.
After a quick glance around camp, he found her halfway down the slope.
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