Janice and I went ahead to see the slope.
“We’re not going that way,” she said.
I looked back at our disheveled group, barely clinging to the horses. They hadn’t heard, but already despair crinkled mouths and eyes.
“We have to go on.”
They would have turned back at her word; we would retrace our steps. But I went to the edge and looked down the precarious trail. It was, at least, a trail.
Her jaw quivered, lips tightening. And she walked away, reigns in hand. It was so small, but this was my defiance. We would go on.
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