The first crack appeared above Shade's face. It ran across the underside of the descending slab, branched around a lump of embedded stone, and stopped less than an inch from his right eye. He watched it spread while the weight pressed harder against his chest. Every breath had become a choice between pain and suffocation, and the darkness holding his ribs together was thinning faster than he could replace it.
Shade pushed two strands into the crack. They flattened against the stone immediately. He had expected as much. There was no chance of lifting the slab with what remained of his strength, and the attempt had already sent a fresh wave of pain through his ruined shoulder. Instead, he let the strands separate and follow the narrow spaces between the compressed layers of rock. He could feel where the pressure was greatest, where the stone was still moving, and where small pockets had survived between its broken surfaces.
