Free A Single Stone by Meg McKinlay

about them when I’m here,” Min said softly. “The Seven, I mean.”
    It was as though she were reading Jena’s thoughts.
    It was from here that the first tunnellers had emerged – though they were not tunnelling back then but simply surviving.
    Seven women had crawled clear, nose to toe. One man’s wife. Another’s sister, neighbour.
    There was reunion, tears. And then there was grief.
    For everything was gone, the women said. Everything and everyone. The earth had opened up and swallowed the village, splintering and tumbling their homes into its gaping maw. And then a wall of water had risen like a fist from the flat surface of the ocean and poured across the land, drowning everything that remained.
    These women had been spared only because they were on the higher ground of the Pass. They were about to make their way through into the valley when the water came, surging up and over the lip of the mountain. The sea roared in their ears as the stone walls began to crack and sway around them, as wall became roof and crashed upon them, sealing them inside.
    They hauled themselves through the jagged dark as the mountain rumbled, sending tremors through the rock that blocked each passage behind them. Until finally they were here, seven women emerging from the stone as if it had opened up to let them through.
    The mountain could hardly have sent them a clearer message. Men had dug into the mountain and women had crawled clear. Those first Seven had become the Mothers of them all.
    Min turned to Jena. “It’s all right, isn’t it … that I told Mama about being inside? She always wanted to tunnel.” She hesitated. “She tried for eight years.”
    Jena stared at Min in disbelief. It wasn’t odd that her mama had kept trying. Jena had seen girls like this. Determined girls. Desperate girls. Girls who wrapped themselves tighter and tighter, who said no to a second helping – or a first – then returned to run the maze for a third year, a fourth. But eight?
    “I just wanted to tell her about it,” Min went on. “I never thought Thom would–”
    “It’s all right.” Jena met Min’s eyes. “You did well yesterday.”
    “Thank you.”
    Jena was glad to hear no false modesty in the girl’s voice. No
Really? Do you think so?
No reaching for more praise.
    “I was a bit scared at first.” Min hesitated. “No, not scared. It’s just … it’s so different. Outside feels so close here, but where we were yesterday … it’s like you could almost forget the world, like the rock is all there is.”
    Jena felt a rush of affection for the girl. What she said was so …
right
. Or at least it was exactly how Jena had felt after her first harvest. And felt to this day, more strongly than ever.
    “Did you need me for something?” Min asked. “Did I miss something yesterday? Loren showed me how to check the gear. I thought I did everything, but …”
    “I’m sure it’s fine. You can show me tomorrow.”
    Jena watched as understanding bloomed across Min’s face. “Tomorrow?”
    “You’d better grow your hair a bit. It makes it easier to braid.”
    “Oh.” Min’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Mama will be so happy. It’s been hard.”
    How could it be otherwise? Although a daughter earned you extra food and mica, it could hardly be enough to keep five growing boys. But a daughter in the line? That might come close, if you were careful.
    If the rock allowed it.
    “Will your mama not try for another daughter?”
    Something passed across Min’s face. “It’s too dangerous. She’s broken.”
    Broken.
There was something brittle about the word and Jena could not make her lips form a reply. All she could see was a body worn thin by the years, splintering, shattered.
    She turned and put a hand on Min’s arm. As she brushed the rock, there was a crunching sound, the sudden feeling of something sharp against her side.
    She thrust a hand into her pocket. It was the bottle Mama Dietz had given her; she had