I.

Blindness. Shaking, shivering, wetness. Swirling, twirling, unfurling as a lost water lily, escaping between waves of froth and foam. Open. Choke. Bloom. Die.

Stay lost little leaves. Bury yourselves beneath blankets of baptismal fonts. Stay lost and choke to death. Stay lost and die.

It was Isum who surfaced first, his mouth wide and open and gasping uncontrollably as he fought the icy current. It was night, and the moon hung, low and sinister, peering at them with a lidless, unsympathetic eye. His arms fought wildly—he knew how to swim, but it seemed that in his panic he'd forgotten. His eyes searched the top of the water and he steadily regained his wits. Where was she? He hoarsely called out her name, swallowing the bitter water of the river curling around him.

He heard a half-cry, a shout of panic that was quickly silenced by a slap of icy water in the distance. He shoveled the water out of the way with his arms, blindly careening through the noisy river towards the sound. His eyes soon came upon his sister—she was clinging onto a log, trying not to drown. Relief flooded his heart, and he pounded towards her.

"Jovy," he managed to cry back, "stay tight there, I'm comin'."

She didn't know how to swim, and had begged him not to cross the river, to find a different way, but there had been no time. They already knew their very seconds away from the plantation were limited—and he'd promised they'd be all right, that he would make sure her little head did not pass under the waves.

He took big, easy strokes, letting his panic fade and letting the river float him close to her. The river had suddenly stopped its angry torrent, breathing calmly and serenely once again. He reached the log, grabbing it. She held onto it with the grip of the dead, her eyes wide and her shoulder's shaking.

"Y'ah-ite?" he breathed sharply. She managed a nod; he wrapped a secure arm around his sister. "We goin' back to the other side now, ah-ite?"

She held on to him with one arm, uselessly trying to paddle herself with the other as he easily swam them both over to the shore. She pulled herself out of the river, then turned and gave him a hand up. They both sat there for a moment, breathing heavily.

"We should keep on," he said quickly, jumping to his feet and pulling her up beside him. "Ain't got no time 'fore he comes wit th' dogs."

But Jovy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Where'd all th' trees go?" she asked, and even as he whirled around to tell his sister to quit acting so damn foolish, he realized she was right. They'd been running through the woods, hearts pounding, leaping over logs and tripping over twigs. Now here they were, climbing out of some big river, and there were hardly any trees in sight.

"We musta gott'n washed downriver," Isum reassured her shakily. "Don' worry none. We gotta run."

Jovy's eyes shot up towards the skies; she craned her neck. "Y'see it?" asked her brother.

"Ay-uh," she said, "Rain cleared up ratha quick-like."

Her eyes groomed the skies for the tiny, bright speck of white, looking for that one little dot scattered among the snow. She found it; it gleamed brightly, smiling distantly a bit away from the moon. It liked them. It was glad they had not met their ends in the swirling tide.

"'Dis way," she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him abruptly towards the north. Their feet pounded the ground as they ran, dragging the invisible chains of bondage behind them. Their eyes were wide and alert; their ears open to any sound. They could sense the dogs snapping at their heels; feel the very lash of the master's whip upon their backs…

They ran as though hell itself were following them.