Some mercy of the mountain, some outcrop of rock I will be grateful for until the day I die, caught me: I struck a narrow ledge partway down the cliff face, hard, and the world went white with pain.

But even before I understood where I was, before I understood anything at all, my arms had already wrapped themselves around my belly, both of them, tight, an instinct older and stronger than thought.

“Stay with me, little one,” I whispered into the freezing dark.

“Mommy’s right here.

Please stay with me.”

I was, from that moment, no longer fighting for myself.