Pressure from below rolled the old stake toward the yard wall, tightening Cava's ankle strap and snapping the clinic line against the plaster.
Todd grabbed the stake with his good hand. His injured wrist folded before it found a hold. The Kavel half sat in his other palm; the bent yoke tooth stayed under his belt.
"Mind your wrist; brace the post with your shoulder," Cava said.
"I'm trying. The ground keeps taking the stake away from me."
Cava braced her heel against the old post. The recovery jaw's last tooth climbed its ring. Ruvan's belt still held the lower one, but its buckle slipped whenever the post rolled.
At Clinic Five, the speaking tube rattled in its bracket. Talli called through it, voice breaking with the line's movement.
"The cord has pulled the bracket halfway out. Bera's cot is clear of the wall."
"Keep the cot clear, and tell Bera to wait for my answer before you move it again."
