Tahlavain

It’s a joint effort between the two of us to make it down this steep embankment, with the bandage on Jack’s leg already soaked with blood, should have pulled it tighter, and my lack of knowledge concerning the paths leading down the gorge.  Trash, shards of metal, discarded equipment, and sludge from heavens knows what, blocks our path left and right.  Jack is saying nothing, just quietly pointing to one direction or the other as we traverse the pits, and I guess I should keep the silence as well, so I do.
These were good shoes.  Now covered with something black and sticky, my jogging shoes are picking up papers and tissues everywhere I step, and who knows who blew their nose or wiped their rear ends with them before I came along.  And Jack lives this way?  I’ll have to ask him how he manages, but I get the feeling that noise would call in trouble, so I’ll just zip my lip.  Besid