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〃Just where you are； and I'll be back in no time；〃 his voice sounded over the renewal of the engine。 〃Don't move； now； so that I'll know where to find you。〃
The engine evened out； drew away； and she heard him go whirring off on his quest。 One last wisp of it came drifting back； after the rest was already gone； like a postscript； like an afterthought from the distance。 And then no more。
Silence again。 Night again； and by herself again。
She stood there for a while in a sort of state of suspended animation； staring blindly toward the black presence of the wall； as though trying to fix and hold the exact spot at which she had last heard his voice； lest if she lose it by so much as a quarter of an inch； if she deflect her eyes； he would not e back； there would be some magic pulsion gone。 Frightened children have that fetishism。
〃Don't move； he said；〃 she whispered to herself once； in cautioning reminder。
Then suddenly； as though unable to support her upright position any more； as though something had given way under her； she floundered down to her former position on the ground； halflength prone； head and neck and shoulders still upright on one arm。 Not senseless； but drained of all strength。 Only able to do two things； breathe and wait。 Three。
Hope was a white moth； tiny of wing； fluttering around her in the darkness。
Coldness seeped into her legs and the outspread flatness of her own hand from the moss and the damp ground； numbing them。 Or was that the ichor of those who lay so thickly scattered about under here being transfused into her by some horrid sort of osmosis？ She snatched her hand up and flung it out； as you do when you try to drain something off。
The moth was making wider circles now； not so close around her。 How long was it now？ Four minutes？ Five？
She struggled to her knees； and bunched her hands together； and bent her face to them。 〃Make him e back。 Just this one little thing give me： make him e back。〃
The moth was going now； the moth was leaving fast； going somewhere else。 Its minute wings were glimmering off into nothingness。
She whispered into her hands； as though it were a secret they alone shared with her： 〃He told me not to move。 See； I'm trying not to be frightened。 I'm quiet； you can't hear me。 That one nearly got out； but I didn't let it； I stifled it。 This one isn't going to either…〃
And then a bereft scream went winging up overhead and； almost puzzled； she realized it had e from her。
She put her hands to her throat； as if to stop it outwardly； if she couldn't inwardly。 They were powerless too。 A second one was wrenched from her against her will。 〃Hurry up！ Where are you？〃 It vibrated in the cemetery stillness like a thrumming knife blade； went winging over the wall into the night beyond。
In the redoubled silence that followed she thought she heard a sound。 Nothing definite； like that car door before； or even the chirp of the horn preceding that。 Something less easily identifiable； like a…a pad。 Over somewhere on the other side of the wall； not in here where she was。 It must have been simply some leaf； or small cluster of leaves； that had fallen to the ground with a splat。 And yet； it hadn't been quite like that either。 It had been both firmer and at the same time softer； less scratchy； more resilient。 Almost like a velvety tread； the merest silkiest whisper of a tread； except that a tread is continuous； and this was an isolated fragment of one； cast into notice by some uncertainty or flux of the ground being trodden upon。 That； at least； was what it could have been taken for； what it bore a resemblance to most。 But was it anything at all？ The sodden fall of a kernel or heavy burr； or a piece of mortar loosened from the wall surface by his recent gymnastic efforts； could have caused it as well。
Alertness was ebbing again； as nothing followed for a moment or two。
Then a twig snapped。 The smallest of small twigs。 Little better than a membrane。 Still over there on the outside； not in here。
The wind was from behind her； blowing outward across the wall； as it had been all along。 Not strong； of an impetus enough only to sway dangling leaves a little； to carry scents from one part to another。 To carry the scent of the many dead over the wall and beyond。 The many dead； and the one living。 But what nostrils could detect such a thing？ What senses were keen en…？
There was a huff。 The sound of hot body breath being blown against a surface that acted upon it as a sort of sounding board。 As if nostrils were being pointed searchingly against the wall。 But distended vents of nostrils； tubes of sonorousness。
There was something living near her。 It was a feeling； a surety； a knowledge； that grew on her without any further audible proof to confirm it。 Every nerve in her body； every hair follicle in her head； told her so。 And the longer the silence continued； the stronger the impression grew。 As though； while she held her breath； listening through； something else was bated near her； listening also。 More than just listening with ear。 Identifying her with rippling pores of acuteness。 Projected waves of awareness； magnetized with some sort of powerful； leashed dynamism； reached her through the bulky stone barrier。 Something； someone； was present there； hidden from sight on the other side of it。 Stalking her in plete immobility； so to speak。
Her screams； just now； had drawn something to her。 It couldn't be a human being； it was too stealthy。 A dog； perhaps？ But a dog would bark or at least growl its distrust。 This thing was still。 fleadlily still； venomously still。
She couldn't stand the prolonged tension any longer。 A tension not alone generated from her； but that was a two…way current； flowing both to and from her。 〃Is that you？〃 she quavered。 〃Why are you so still？〃
She knew it couldn't be。 He would have e back in the car。 Or if not； there would at least have been the sound of hurrying footsteps； unconcealed； the drag of a ladder； a hail to her。
There was a rasping； along the outer side of the wall； in answer to her voice。 A sandpapery friction； directly abreast of where she cowered。 The sound…the sound that a cat sometimes produces when it tries its claws on something。 Following it an instant later； she could detect a vibration of the ground； municated through to where she was As though something； some heavy body； had dropped heavily。 Had flung itself up first； and then dropped frustratedly back again。
〃Who is it？〃 she cried sharply。 〃Who's there？〃
A spring is soundless； until it meets its objective； and yet somehow she knew that something had sprung。 Some disturbance of the air told her。 A moment later； in confirmation； somewhere over her there was a creak； as of wood being strained； a great rustling of leaves。 And yet at the moment there was a lull in the wind； there was nothing to cause it。
Her eyes flew up to that bough that spanned the wall almost directly over her。 It was thick； well rounded； heavy enough to bear…many things。 Something had happened to it； it had altered。 Dark as it was； she could see that a change had taken place in it。 It had stood out straight until now； well clear of the to