Chaska wrapped the bell fragment without looking at its names.
She used three turns of thick cloth, then a cord from the tool bag. Ysabet held the bundle against her chest with her injured right forearm while her left hand kept the hood frame steady. Water ran from the shallow cut on her wrist. The skin had opened, but the arm moved. That was enough information for the next few paces.
Pip would not rise.
Its legs remained spread on the plate. Each breath moved the folds along its sides. Through the bond came a dull, distant pressure, difficult to distinguish from Ysabet’s own exhaustion.
She put her useful hand beside it.
“Coming?”
The creature lifted its head. It looked past her toward the wrapped bell.
She shifted the bundle behind her body, blocking the sight of it. “Not that way.”
