My heart pounds. “Over here!” I cry. I’m so relieved, my knees feel weak. “Stop that! Wait!” The voice is a female’s, loud and firm. I whirl around to see a sixty-something woman emerging from the brush, her eyelids pulled back in concern. I’m so surprised to see her, I drop the jar on the ground. It lands with a thud and the water seeps into the grass. I get so dizzy and numb in an instant that the earth starts spinning, and I fall back against the dirt. Everything fades to black, and I pass out. * * * When I come to after God knows how long, I’m strapped under my arms to something soft, something furry. It’s moving slowly, ambling along the earth. Above me, the tree canopy glimmers in the sun. Birds flit from branch to branch, chirping sweetly. The woman I saw earlier is tugging whatever is holding me by its collar. “Come on, girl, nice and easy,” she says to it, as she stares up ahead. “Slow. Slow.” She’s wearing retro clothes from the 1960s: loose cotton dress, brown-fringed leather vest, turquoise earrings dangling from her ears.
