Pip brought the honey at dusk.
It had to push the jar. The wounded place behind its foreleg made carrying awkward, and its mouth could not grip the handle. The jar wobbled over the root, tipped, and rolled against Suth’s blanket.
Ysabet caught it before the lid came loose.
“Careful.”
Pip clicked at her and pushed it again.
Suth opened her eyes.
“What have you got?”
Ysabet unscrewed the lid. The smell of mineral honey rose into the cooling air. A small amount remained at the bottom, cloudy gold with a blue sediment. They had been saving it for emergencies without agreeing what would qualify.
