All sundried and bowlines retied, lost a couple logs so smaller now but still seaworthy, “We gotta get back on the river if we’re gonna get to town before sundown. You ready?” exhausted after escape but no landtrails through the rocky bramble so rekindle the inner furnace until enough to rise from the dragonflied riverside, bend grab the rope, “Okay, one, two, three,” strain lift our vessel and walk into the mud cold up past the ankles, careful step sure forefooted on the pebblesand around the moss rocks, past the knees and into the slow pool waist high with the rapids behind smooth surface ahead, “Okay, you first,” up and on, out of the cold, then he hopped on back tipping but weight shift stabilized, balance slipstreamed and hand paddle back into the current…