No.
I adjusted my grip, anchoring him away from the edge, pulling him back inch by inch until he is no longer in immediate danger.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
“Raph!”
Her voice was lower, below.
I turned sharply.
And there?—
Down the embankment?—
I saw her. She was soaked and mud-streaked, but very much alive. Relief hit like a punch to the gut.
I secured her father first, steadying him, anchoring him away from the edge, guiding him back toward a tree where the ground holds. He protested softly, confused, still reaching for something that no longer exists.
“It’s alright,” I told him, voice low but firm. “Stay here.”
Then I turned to her.
I slid down the embankment without grace, boots slipping in the mud as I made my way to where she was.
“Belle.”
Up close, she looked worse.
Soaked through. Mud streaked across her face and hands. Breathing too fast. One leg held just slightly wrong, but she’s here.
“I’m okay,” she said quickly, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “My knee’s just?—”
I didn’t let her finish. I pulled her into me. She made a small sound of surprise before her arms came up around me just as tightly.
We were both soaked, cold, and covered in mud.
I did not care. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel the relief. I got lost in the absolute, overwhelming certainty that I was not too late. Not this time.
“Do not ever do that again,” I murmured into her hair, my voice rougher than I intended.
She huffed out a shaky breath against my chest.
I pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Can you stand?”
“Yes,” she says. “It’s just a tweak.”
I didn't believe her entirely, but we do not have the luxury of debate.
“Lean on me.”
I shifted her weight carefully, one arm braced around her waist as I guided her up the slope. She winced once but didn't complain.
We reached her father together.
He looked at her and smiled, relief softening his confusion.
