They were all alone, stranded in a cave, with a sick boy, no phone, no boat, and no medicine

T

rembling, Danny followed the sound of the water. The cave narrowed into a tunnel, dark and low, and soon he was crawling on his hands and knees, his clothes catching against the jagged rocks. The further in he went, the colder and damper it became.

And then, blinding him with its suddenness, at the end of the darkness came the light! A light so brilliant, so golden, and so sweet that it seemed to greet him like an exotic bird, its shimmering feathers spread out wide in an open embrace.

He stood upright, took a few steps forward. There before him was a spring, its waters tinkling lightly, and beside it grew flowers, so beautiful that for some reason he wanted to cry. And as he stood there, at the open mouth of the cave, he felt a whisper of prayer, “Koli shamata al taalem aznecha l’ravchasi leshaavasi.”

“Danny?” It was Yitz standing behind him.

“You heard it?” said Danny.

“No — what?” said Yitz. “It’s Zvi. He’s really bad. What should we do?”

“The water,” said Danny. “Give him some to drink.”

“How? We have no cup. We can’t drag him through the tunnel to drink here.”

“Make a compress for his forehead with your sleeve and use this as well,” said Danny, ripping a sleeve off his own shirt. “He can suck the water from it.”

“That won’t be enough, Danny.”

“Do it, Yitz,” said Danny. “I’ll see what I can find.”