Hugh lay with his shoulders against the fallen true, struggling to breathe, to get air into his lungs. The world slipped and whitened around him. When it began to steady, when the pain in his chest lessened, he became aware of the warmth and weight pressed against him, against his left side and arm. "Irena," he said in a voiceless whisper, giving that warmth a name, pulling himself back with the name, the presence. She was crouching doubled up, her face hidden. "It's all right," he said. "It's gone," she said, "it's gone." "Is it gone?" "It went on." She had sat up but her warmth was still next to him, and he turned his face against her shoulder. "It's all right, Hugh. It's all right now." After a long time his breath came evenly again. He raised his head, and sat up. Irena drew away a little and tried to comb the leaves and dirt out of her hair with her fingers, and rubbed her wet cheeks. "What now?" she said in a little, husky voice. "I don't know." Excerpted from The Beginning Place by Ursula K. Le Guin All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
