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“It’s like reverse giving birth,” Summer said, studying my actions.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” She frowned. “You don’t happen to have condoms tucked in the back pocket of your loincloth, do you?”
“I . . .” This female kept my mind scrambling. “I do not have a pocket in my loincloth, and I do not believe I have these condooms anywhere on my body, but I could look for some if you would like.”
“Since there’s no convenience store nearby, we’ll have to wing it.”
“I told you my wings do not work.”
“Winging it is another phrase.” She waved toward me. “It means taking things as they come. Anyway, I’m sorry I’m holding you back.”
I nodded, unsure what to say, but she was right. I needed to get going. Wing it, I supposed. Ducking down, I eased the rest of my body inside the hole.
I found myself on a narrow ledge with a series of other ledges leading downward, like stairs.
Tumbles sat on one of the stone slabs ten or so below mine. When he caught my attention, he yipped.
I tipped my head back. “It is safe, Summer.”
Silence greeted my words. No monitors. No Summer.
