“You decline to help us in any way, then,” he said. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. . The note-passer lagged behind with her. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. “And where are YOU going?” he said. Here would be the true test of his strength. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. She forced herself not to think of John. . “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. Long ago.
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