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I scoff at her, actually starting to like her a little. “What’s the saying again? Wisdom before beauty?”
“Did you just call me beautiful? And here I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I was in fact ignoring you, but the spoiled princess couldn’t let me have that, now could you?”
She lets out a short harumph.“Even if I see you dying out there, I won't even lift a finger to help you.”
"So much confidence. And also shut up, can’t you see I’m trying to pay attention?" I whisper back sharply, her eyes still glued to the officiator and projection. I bite my tongue, noticing she's still scribbling down notes.
I can't underestimate her, as much as I'm loath to admit it.
Next, we’re directed to the practice climbing area for a brief safety and climbing course. Much to my horror, we're partnered as teammates for the instruction.The fates continue to spite me.
We stand at the base of the practice wall, gearing up for our test climb. The instructor emphasizes thorough checks before we start. “Let me just stop you before you get too ahead of yourself,” I say, towering over her. “This is my territory. I don’t need a little human girl telling me how to do my job.”
She nods, rolling her eyes. Then she gets to work examining my rig, her dainty little hands a flurry of action as she pulls every shiny little buckle she can get her hands on. I watch her closely, feeling a frustrating mix of irritation and attraction as she double-checks every detail.But there’s no possible way she’s going to find something on my professional–
"You missed a loose strap here," she notes, pointing to a spot on my harness. I check and see she's right. A careless oversight on my part. I give a begrudging nod, annoyed that she detected my mistake. I don't let her see my gratitude, though. Instead, I retort. "Oh, so now you're the expert on mountaineering, huh?"
She smirks and steps back, allowing me to check her gear. I examine her harness, taking my time to ensure everything is secure. There's a slight moment of tension between us as our hands brush, but I quickly pull away.
"You need to tighten this carabiner," I say, trying to sound as professional as possible. "And here I thought you were the expert."
Our bickering continues as we finish the climbing course, but it's all part of the game. In this harsh environment wheresurvival comes first, we may need to rely on each other at one point, no matter how much we might irritate one another.
“Just don’t get the wrong idea, I’m here for one thing and one thing only. To win. So don’t expect any special treatment just because we were paired together during the practice,” I say, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.
6
IARA
My alarm screeches into my eardrums, dragging me out of a restless slumber far too early for my liking. I feel like I barely slept at all, thanks to the audacity of Rylan. Just who in the hell does he think he is?I was up all night, irritated by him. The very thought of him infuriates me, the aloof, grumpy old bastard.
“It’s me who’s going to be leaving that old man in the dust,” I declare.
But despite my resolve and the flickers of anger, there's no denying the undercurrent of attraction I feel for him. Calling him old doesn’t make him any less appealing, and the rational part of my brain sees through the trick. He’s only a few years older than me and so terribly gorgeous it hardly matters.
It's maddening, especially when my goal is to prove myself in this trial. I don't need distractions.
Just as I try to shake off my sleep-deprived irritation and regain my focus, a new sound blares from the courtyard. It’s a raucous trumpet or some kind of peppy instrument. I'm already in a foul mood, and this obnoxious wake-up routine only deepens my hatred for everyone and everything at this moment.
I roll over, determined to shake off the remnants of sleep, and begin mentally running through my pre-race checklist. With practiced precision, I layer my lower insulation, ensuring it fits snugly against my skin.
Next, I slide on my first layer of stockings, each action part of my ritual. I’ve been inadvertently training for this my entire life and do my best to block out the thoughts of Rylan to concentrate on the race.
We file out and march down the base camp halls, following the path countless aspirants have walked before us.The blaring trumpets and instruments fill the air once more, and I can't help but wonder why they can't save their energy for the upcoming trial.
We ascend via a serpentine ribbon that weaves its way through craggy cliffs and stony outcroppings. The early dawn light bathes the rugged mountainside in a dim glow, casting shadows that twist and creep like living things taunting us with the treacherous obstacles ahead.
I crane my neck, taking in the sheer scope of the first mountain in the range. Its summit disappears into wispy clouds. My lungs burn in the thin, chilled air. Pebbles cascade down the steep trail, dislodged by the competitors' footsteps as we climb ever higher.
The atmosphere is electric, the air saturated with nervous energy. Aspirants gather at the starting line, their expressions ranging from steely determination to barely concealed dread. It's a tableau of contrasting emotions – hope, fear, focus, doubt. They’re all played out against the staggering vastness of the mountains.
I spot Rylan among the others. His athletic figure is impossible to miss. Our eyes connect briefly, setting off sparks within me. But he quickly looks away, maintaining hisinfuriatingly aloof demeanor. I grit my teeth in frustration but force myself to refocus. I cannot let him distract me now.
The officiator's commanding voice echoes off the rocky mountainside as she delivers our final briefing. "Every handhold, every step, treat them as precious gifts, not guaranteed privileges," she warns, eying each of us sternly. "Respect the mountain, but do not worship it. Skill and preparation will be your salvation, not appeasement."
Her words resonate through me as I visualize the path ahead, etched by hardship but ultimately fulfilling. This is my chance to prove my worth, regardless of what Rylan thinks of me.
