Free 360 Degrees Longitude by John Higham

trying to gross out September with the grasshopper he had caught, and pretended he didn’t hear me. “Want to hold this one, Mom?”
    One of the three dwellings that made up Blatten also housed a restaurant. People were sitting on the porch, enjoying the alpine air.
    September, Jordan, and I sat in the shade for several more minutes. I was starting to get annoyed. Katrina knew we had to get going soon. I started to look around for her a little harder, letting my eyes do the work; I was still committed to sitting in the shade.
    It was then that I noticed a little boy. He was in front of the porch full of people devoted to their lunchtime conversations. He kept looking at me in earnest, and then pointing to the sheer face of the boulder that was blocked from my view.
    I walked over to where the boy had been pointing and found Katrina standing on one leg and leaning against the boulder. “What are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œWell, we have to get going if we’re going to cycle off this mountain before the sun sets.” I turned and started to walk away.
    â€œI can’t,” she said.
    I turned to face her. “Why not?”
    â€œI can’t walk.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI was rappelling down this side of the boulder and the rope broke,” she answered matter-of-factly. “My leg hurts when I try to put any weight on it.”
    I looked up. Sure enough, about fifteen feet up hung a frayed rope end flapping in the breeze; at her feet lay the other half of the rope. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my mind started cranking out questions faster than my mouth could form them.
    â€œHow far did you fall? How long have you been standing here? Have you tried to put any weight on your leg?”
    Katrina replied conversationally, “I fell about ten minutes ago, and I’m not sure how far I fell. I’ve tried to put weight on my leg, but it hurts too much.”
    Only someone who knows Katrina would understand. She has ignored away every injury she has ever sustained. At the age of three if she bumped into something or fell down, we could see the pain in her face, but her words and actions would pretend any injury away. By the age of five she had learned to conceal any look of pain and flatly refused to acknowledge anything that might have hurt her.
    I picked Katrina up in my arms and carried her back to where Jordan and September sat. I also took the coil of rope that had fallen to the ground. I put Katrina down gently beside September where we retold the story.
    â€œWell, there isn’t any swelling or bruising,” September said, carefully examining Katrina’s leg. “It’s probably just a bad sprain. Let’s see if we can get some ice to put on it.”
    I wasn’t so sure. The ice sounded like a good idea, but the location where Katrina was indicating pain wasn’t a joint. You can’t exactly get a sprain in the middle of your shin. “Little One, where does it hurt exactly?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. Sort of all over.”
    September walked over to the restaurant and came back with a bag of ice. “The people over at the restaurant want to know how she is. Apparently a few of them saw it happen.”
    â€œNice of them to let us in on it,” I said through clenched teeth.
    After a few minutes, it was clear the ice wasn’t going to make Katrina magically walk again. “With all the backpackers and hikers who go along these mountain trails, you know this sort of thing has happened before,” September said. “There has to be a way to get her off the mountain.”
    â€œI agree. Did you notice on the way up here there were a few tractors and trucks harvesting hay? If they can get up here, some sort of rescue vehicle can. Worst case, maybe a farmer will take us down on his tractor.”
    I scooped Katrina up in my arms and we all walked over to the restaurant, where I was