As the sun sets, the cold seeps in from the rock. My throat is flayed from calling out for help. No one is coming. The only thing that I’m aware of is Mr. Bones over there, way over in that place that I’m not going near. It’s not so awful if I give it a name.

I want to cry. Or laugh hysterically. Or screech like Chaos. I want to curl up and wait for my dad to come. Tears threaten, but I begin to talk to myself. Don’t give in to that. You’re not going to get yourself out of this mess if you give up. You are calm, you are not afraid, you are safety.

There’s a pile of rock sitting at one end of the crevice. My landslide brought part of the ridge down here with it. I try piling some of it like a stepladder to reach my pack, but I still can’t. Kicking at the dirt of the floor, I wonder if I can dig and follow the fault line to a way out. But once I start to claw at the ground, I realize it’s only dirt covering more rock. The entire crevice is a big rock tub. There’s no hope of digging anywhere.

The fact that I’m going to die of thirst with my water hanging just over my head would actually be kind of funny if it weren’t so deadly serious.

Deadly.

Keep it together, Karma.

My mind has gone numb. I feel a bit off-kilter, as if I’m underwater or watching this happen to someone else.

The sky is deep red now. The setting sun casts loud colors across the rock. It’s going to get pitch-dark in here soon, and I’ll be alone with crevice ghosts, and I can’t bear it. I squeeze my eyes shut, but that doesn’t help, because as soon as I do, I see Dad stuck in the van. Waiting. I’ve never felt so alone and so useless.

“I’m trying!” I scream at the rim above me.

I’m staring up at the disappearing light when I see a shadow fly by. I sit straighter, my breath catching. Please, please, please, let that be what I think it is.

Then I hear a distinct sound I know so well.

Kek, kek, kek.

Adrenaline jolts me upright. I whistle as loudly as I can, and I see a shape fly overhead. A flash of white. A burst of joy almost bowls me over.

“Stark! Down here, Stark.” I whistle again. Will she come? I don’t even have a lure.

Stark soars lazily above the hole. She’s free now. Free to fly anywhere she chooses. Free like the wind. And I’m so far from free that I might as well be wearing jesses connecting me to this crevice. I watch with a tight throat as she pivots and disappears from view. The next moment she’s above me again, hovering there. I hold my breath as I watch her fold her wings and drop.

She lands on my outstretched fist.

Her toes clutch carefully on my hand. There’s only one layer of cotton between us, so her black talons poke through the hoodie, but they’ve never felt so good. The feel of them, real and sharp and alive, has a deep effect on me. The tension I’ve held in has cracked a percussive fault line inside my heart. Tears perch on my lashes. I blink furiously and start to shake.

“You came,” I croak.

Everything has slowed to a sharp focus. My blood pumps in my ears. I stare at the commissure at the corner of Stark’s mouth, so delicate and perfect. The small notch on the end of her beak, ideal for neck snapping. I smell the dryness of the crevice and feel the ache of my arm.

I can’t believe it. Stark found me. She must’ve followed me on my trek along the road and now has come to my hand. It seems impossible, but yet here she is. It’s as if we’re both lost out here and cling to each other, desperate for something familiar. She shakes her head and, to my delight, signals she’s okay by ruffling her feathers out.

“Your feather is still bent,” I say. “But I don’t have any water or a crimper to fix it for you.”

Stark shuffles, clamping on my arm, and I bite my lip, trying not to jerk. I place her on the rocks. She’s come in for the night. Falcons don’t fly in the dark. She’s going to keep me company down here.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

At my voice, she turns her head until she’s peering upside down at me. This signature silly habit always makes me laugh. I almost think she’s trying to cheer me up.

“Yes, I noticed Mr. Bones too,” I say, tilting my head sideways to look back at her. “But let’s not stare at him. I think he’s a bit shy.”

She straightens and then begins to preen her feathers. The accident didn’t permanently damage her, which makes the tangle of emotions inside me loosen. Stark is feeling comfortable enough to preen. I glance up at the hanging pack.

“I sure wish you could bring my pack to me, Stark. Just fly up there and knock it off, will you? That’s all it needs, just a tap. Wouldn’t that be a cool trick? We need to start training you to do helpful things like that.” I talk to her like we’ll always be together. Like we’re not in the middle of nowhere.

Stark rubs her beak on the rock beside her. A calm settles over me as I watch her feak. She’s content to clean her beak, and her mood is contagious somehow. I’m stuck in a rock cavern without water or food. I’m injured, and the sun is going down. But Stark is keeping the worst of my fears away.

Her head tucks in under her wing, and I nod. “Good idea.”

I reach back and pull my hood on, trying to conserve my heat. As I settle closer to Stark, I pull the strings to tighten my hood. My arm throbs.

It’s going to be a long night.