She was crouching down in the dirt, both knees bent, sleeves rolled up, fingers digging into the loose ground.
The soil was damp and cold but she dagged nevertheless.
She worked fast, like she already knew where the thing was buried.
She paused once, head tilting, as if listening.
I held my breath, certain she'd heard me.
After a heartbeat, she resumed digging, faster now.
After a moment, her fingers touched something hard.
She let out a long breath and leaned back slightly.
"It's still here," she said under her breath. Relief washing over her.
"That guy would be angry if I lost it."
She cleared the dirt away and pulled the object out of the hole.
She brushed the soil off with her palm and slipped it into a cloth bag.
I stayed still, barely breathing, pressed against the wall of the outdoor bathroom.
The bathroom was behind the inn, separated from the main building, half-hidden by old wooden panels and shadows.
