She cried out in shock, just as a boy in a white shirt grabbed her left hand.
She hung suspended in midair from the cliff.
She was still clutching the fig in her right hand.
She raised her eyes to the boy, who happened to have his back to the light. The sunlight that day was blinding. She couldn't make out his features at all, only that he was wearing a white shirt.
She wanted him to let go then, but Brother White shook his head, unwilling to let go no matter what. He just kept holding on to her.
Even though his hand was cut by a tree branch and blood stained his white shirt, he didn't let go.
At the time, she was so young. She simply gave and passed out.
When she woke up again, her grandfather had already carried her home. She handed the fig to him.
She had even asked her grandfather where Brother White Shirt had gone.
