She imagined rescuers examining the mountain.
Perhaps they had finally discovered an entrance.
Perhaps her father was nearby.
She began moving faster.
Then the passage narrowed.
She stepped onto a patch of loose gravel.
Her injured leg twisted beneath her.
She fell against a wall and slid down a short rocky slope.
The impact reopened an old wound and left her unable to stand comfortably.
She screamed for help.
The voices disappeared.
Only echoes answered.
Later, Imran found her after searching the neighboring passages.
She was sitting on the ground, crying uncontrollably.
“There were people,” she insisted.
He looked around.
“Where?”
“Down there. I heard them.”
Imran listened.
Then he struck his walking stick against the stone floor.
The sound traveled down the passage and returned in distorted fragments.
He called out a few words.
Seconds later, their echoes came back, stretched and altered by the tunnels.
Layan stared at him.
