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When he goes to pick me up, I step back and shake my head. I am not dangling over his shoulder the whole way up. I can’t be on his back because my weight will tip him back—and if I let go, well, I’ll die.
There seems to be a lot of death in my future. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe as it all becomes too much.
“Come on, the sooner we reach the top, the sooner we can…” He looks at me.
I don’t know what he was going to say next, but we both know it won’t be rest. No, it was decided that every time we stop for the night, I would make good on my end of the deal.
Michael turns and looks at the rocks. “You know you don’t have to.”
Climb or have sex with them every night?
Right now, I know which one I’d rather and it doesn’t involve heights.
I’ve never liked heights, or climbing, or jumping off things, or out of things. Climbing the ridge isn’t going to be as bad as climbing the spire. I need to get over my fear. I wipe my hands on the robe, sure they have suddenly started sweating for no good reason except to make me slip and fall.
My fingers bump against the notebook in my pocket. That’s what we need to do tonight. Find out what Tail wrote when he could still read and write. It might be nothing but angry ranting. My lips curve. But just because he is angry now, doesn’t mean he was back when he first arrived.
I glance at Michael, then find my first hand hold and start. The rocks bite into my bare feet, but at least I can use my toes to grip. I try to think of other positives, like if I slip, I will land on Michael as he is following me—and no doubt peering straight up my skirt.
The thought is enough to loosen my grip. A few small rocks bounce their way to the ground below. The rock face isn’t sheer, but it might as well be. I just want to get past this bit and onto the trail. The trail will be easier.
I repeat that every time I reach out and stretch for a new grip.
Almost there.
My breath rasps in my ears and my claws rake over the rocks. Beneath me, all I hear from Michael is the occasional grunt. I’m sure he is wishing that I was faster or stronger. If not for me he’d be at the top already.
I pull myself up the last little bit and lie on the trail, glad that I made it but not wanting to look down to see how far I have come. The path is only wide enough for me to lie, but if I try to roll, I’ll end up rolling all the way back down to the ground and I do not want to be climbing again. While I lay there panting and staring at the dirt and rocks in front of my face—I don’t want to look down or up as both are terrifying—Michael climbs up in front of me.
He did all of that without toes, only hooves. How the hell did he not slip?
“Do you want me to carry you now?”
I lift my head a little. He’s kneeling in front of me with his hand out, ready to help. His body is angled because his shoulders are wider than the path. I have visions of dangling over his shoulder with nothing but air between me and the too far away ground or banging my head on the rock wall with every step.
I shake my head. Being carried will be far too awkward. I struggle to my knees and keep my gaze on my hands. Michael holds out his hand and this time I accept. My legs shake as I force myself up.
“Okay?” He’s watching me like he expects me to panic.
Am I about to panic? My heartbeat quickens. I can’t go down, so I have to go up.
I can do this.
I focus on his beautiful blue eye, and I have no idea how he is doing this with hooves and one eye. Isn’t he terrified? Or is he not afraid of anything? I open my mouth, about to ask, then shut it.
“Julie?”
I nod and hope it’s convincing. I have almost convinced myself that I can do this…until he turns and puts his back to the wall. It’s then I notice the problem. He can’t see where he’s going because of the loss of his eye, and he can’t turn his head far enough because of all the horns.
Shit.
I’m going to have to lead.
Which means I’m going to have to get past him and there is no room for me to squeeze by. The panic must show on my face because he keeps ahold of my hand and speaks softly.
“I’m going to lift you around. You’re going to take my other hand and walk up the path.”
My throat is filled with rocks that I can’t swallow. My eyes are hot, and I want to drop back to the path and cry. I can’t do this.
