#Chapter 88: The scenic route

When I caught up with the little girl on the other side of a low hill, she was lowering her bucket down into a water well. A passing wind caught her twin braids and carried them forward over her shoulders. Wisps of rogue orange curls floated around her head, catching the yellow light in a kind of halo. “The lady you are looking for,” she said as I approached. “Is she in trouble?” Her narrow eyes were fixed on the rope as she slacked it loose with tiny but skilled and careful hands. Distantly, I heard the pail splash down and go underwater; she switched her grip, pressed one foot against the base of the stone wellhead for leverage, and started hauling the bucket surface-bound. I shook my head, saw her eyes flick up to watch my reaction. “Not with me,” I answered. “I’m a friend.” I considered my audience, deemed the little girl worthy of unguarded candor. “I’m looking for her because I need her help with something. It’s something very, very important to me. Something I think sh