falls directly onto her. He comes up spluttering and thrashing, panicked despite her warnings, grabs Veronica's arm with a vicegrip and drags her head down below the waterline. His body is convulsing like a landed fish, pulling them both deeper into the river. Veronica kicks as hard as she but barely manages to get her head above water for another breath.
She fights to free herself but he is far too strong. Veronica gives up the struggle and allows him to pull her closer, wraps her other arm around him so she holds him from behind, and kicks again, with all the strength left in her legs. Their heads emerge from the river again for a few seconds. Lovemore is still thrashing uncontrollably.
"Calm down!" she orders him.
They fall back into the water. Then Lovemore goes limp, and his vicegrip on her arm loosens. Veronica grabs him in a bearhug and pulls them back up above the waterline. It isn't easy treading water for two, Lovemore is dense with muscle, but she manages.
"Sorry, sorry," he coughs.
"It's okay. Just hang loose."
She can't tell if the rushing sound ahead indicates rapids or a waterfall, but she knew they don't want to find out. They swim clumsily for the shore opposite the mine. The river shallows into a pebbly bed, and they stumble onto rocky land. Above them she could see the outlines of trees against the clouds; thick, untracked African bush.
"Free," Veronica says, almost disbelievingly, and collapses to the ground.
* * *
Now that her thirst is gone Veronica is bitterly aware of her hunger, and of the blisters, cuts and scrapes that cover seemingly her entire body. She tries to imagine what it would be like to be safe, well-fed and pain-free. It seems like an impossible dream.
Ahead of her Lovemore fights his way through the trackless bush. He staggers with every step, but Veronica isn't worried about him like she was in the mine. Freedom and water seem to have given him back some strength. She follows wearily in his steps. Branches slap at her face, her soaked shoes squelch noisily on the slippery underbrush. She hopes they are moving east.
"What is it?" she asks, when he stops.
"A footpath."
She has to squint to see it in the moonlight, a thin dirt path.
"There are many who live now in these hills," Lovemore says. "They come from the cities, they lose their homes to sickness or Operation Murambatsvina and they come here to live in the bush, as their grandparents did."
"Do we follow it?"
"Yes."
The trail is narrow, uneven, and often impeded by roots and branches, but it's much better than fighting their way through dense forest. Veronica's breath grows ragged and her mind fogs with exhuastion, but she doesn't let herself stop, until Lovemore comes to a halt so sudden she almost collides with him.
"What is it?" she asks.
"Be silent," he whispers. "Look. Up that msasa tree."
Veronica follows Lovemore's gaze up to a tall, leafy tree that overhangs the path. There is something on one of its uppermost branches, she can't quite make it out in the dappled shadows, but she knows immediately, on some instinctive level, that she doesn't want to be any closer to it.
"Leopard," Lovemore says softly. "They leap on their prey from above."
The tawny shape is immediately above the path. "You mean if we kept walking –"
"More likely it is just sunning itself. It is very rare for them to attack humans."
His actions are not near as confident as his words; he takes her hand and leads her in a wide semicircle around the predator. Veronica looks over her shoulder as they return to the trail, just in time to see the leopard stand and stretch with malevolent grace, and her breath freezes in her throat, but after stretching it lies back down again.
They continue, fuelled by adrenalin. The path leads upwards and then opens without warning onto a wide dirt road. To their left the sky is just beginning to shine with the dawn. To their right, the road crosses a wooden bridge, leading back towards the mine.
"That way to Mozambique," Lovemore says, looking east, to where the road skirts a sheer ten-foot cliff.
"Does this road go to the border?" she asks.
"It goes near. Afterwards there are trails."
"Let me guess. It's like this all the way. Steep hills and cliffs."
"Yes."
She sighs. "Can we get there before they follow us? Do you think they'll track us?"
"Is Mozambique where you want to go?"
She is taken aback by the question. "Where else?"
Lovemore considers.