If she was in the ravine when the water hit, she was gone. A shudder rolled through him. “Lord have mercy on her soul.” The water eventually lowered to a muddy trickle, leaving behind scoured clay walls and muddy debris. Removing the bright yellow robe, he scrubbed it against the edge of the ravine to disguise the color. Orange streaks of mud hid the yellow, but it still felt glaring to his eyes. He did the same with the gray blanket around his waist. The welcome cool of the damp fabric against his skin didn’t last long in the drying wind. The dust could take all day to settle. He looked at the sun again and decided he might as well choose a direction, wrong or not. God would lead him. Clambering to his feet, he followed the wind north. But he kept looking over his shoulder at the ravine. Why did he feel like he was abandoning Tula? There was nothing he could do. To the left, a pinprick flashed and disappeared on the horizon.
