The blade cut the flesh of the earth.
With an exhausted heave, a woman with her long blonde hair pulled back in a sweat-slickened ponytail, lifted a shovel with its pound of dirt over her shoulder, adding to the pile behind her.
She rested the shovel on the floor of her hole, wiped the glistening moisture off her forehead which left a streak of dirt from her filthy gloves, and caught her breath for a moment.
Then she stabbed the soil once more and jumped on top of the shovel, cutting a bit deeper into the ground, but frustratingly not as deep as she would have liked.
While not exactly petite at 5' 4", the woman didn't have near enough fat on her bones to make a significant dent in her project.
Months of running and digging and unearthing aged manuscripts and balancing conflicts and calling home to lie and say everything is fine can do that to a person's body.
Read the rest via the link in the description!