“They could still come, you know.” She smothered a yawn, her eyes drifting shut. “The others. They could still rescue us.” “They could.” I held her tighter than necessary as she slipped under. The silence seemed to grow and stretch in her wake. The torchlight flickered. “They could,” I repeated firmly. To her. To myself. To anyone who would listen. They could still rescue us. But they didn’t.
