We continue running. My breath is ragged, and my hope is just about lost. I may have to dump Cossa, along with my teammates.
Yet the devil descends from the heavens, granting me a speck of optimism in the form of shit on a rock.
It takes Nicklas several moments to find one of the Threadback droppings. Then he snatches a small stone.
I watch in awe as he smooshes the turd against the rock—small white powder leaks into the air as a result.
Nicklas hurls the rock with all his might. The form is awful—especially on the run. But all he had to do was hit the broadside of a barn.
The moment is slow and silent. Time crawls.
The turd rock soars through the air parabolically toward the Landeskogs, who run in step not too far from us, trying to evade the Threadbacks.
For a moment, nothing happens. The rock disappears into the pure pandemonium. And with it, my hope.
Just when I thought I was out, he pulled me back in.
