Mikhail looked up to find Bryony approaching, with the rest of the party behind her. He hadn’t realized they’d followed, but even Heath and Richard had picked up the trunk and were nearing the gorge.
“If only the trees were on this side of the gorge.” Dr. Ottingford dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. “Maybe we could make a bridge.”
Mikhail rubbed his jaw. Given how narrow the fissure was, a bridge wasn’t a bad idea—except for the part about there not being any trees. He surveyed the snow-covered rock face again, then scanned the trees on the other side of the gorge. “We need to head down the mountain. We might be able to cross the fissure farther down the slope.”
Dr. Wetherby groaned. “We’ve come all this way, and the river is right there. Going down the mountain feels like we’re going backward.”
“It’s the only way—unless one of you has wings.” Mikhail pointed down the slope of the mountain. “It looks like there are trees to the north, so we might be able to make a bridge farther down.”
“I fear we’ll still have to retrace our steps on the other side of the gorge to get back to the canoes.” Dr. Ottingford scratched the side of his head through his cap.
“Let’s worry about that after we cross.” Bryony started walking, her boots leaving indentations in the soft snow.
Mikhail fell in step behind her, and the others followed behind. They skirted the edge of the gorge, staying about fifty feet away so that if someone fell, the fresh snow would stop them from sliding into the fissure. Walking that slowly, it took them about half an hour to reach the trees. Bryony tromped right up to the first tree she came to and stared up at it.
“Will it work?”
“The idea of a bridge might work, but not that particular tree. I need something that’s both straighter and closer to the edge of the gorge.” He brushed past her to inspect the others. “Or better yet, I want two trees, perhaps even three.”
“What’s the matter, Amos?” Richard set his part of the trunk down in the snow. “Scared of falling?”
“I’m not going to apologize for trying to keep everyone safe.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.
“If crossing will be too dangerous, we can just keep following the gorge.” Dr. Wetherby gestured farther down the mountain. “I know we wanted to get to the river tonight, but I’d rather everyone stay safe.”
“The trouble is, I can’t promise we’ll be able to cross the gorge before we get to the river.” Mikhail rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “Do you remember the cliffs with the canyon that emptied into the river before you beached your canoes? I’m wondering if that’s where this gorge meets the Iskut.”
“I remember. I drew a sketch. It’s a beautiful section of river, but I didn’t realize...” Bryony swallowed, running her eyes down the long, deep fissure. “That is, I never envisioned I’d need to cross the canyon from the top of the cliff.”
Mikhail spied what he’d been looking for and headed over to a thick clump of trees growing right along the edge of the gorge. “These should work.”
He dropped his pack in the snow and removed the hatchet strapped to the side. Chopping sounds filled the air as he set to work cutting a notch in one of the trees so it would fall at the correct angle—directly over the crevice.
The others watched him as he worked, soon moving from the back of the tree to the front and cutting a deep groove into the wood until the tree began to creak.
“Timber!” His shout echoed over the mountains. A moment later, the tree crashed to the ground, falling across the gorge with a force that dislodged branches and sent spruce boughs flying. But the tree held steady after it landed, stretching all the way across the fissure.
He worked on the second tree next, and once that fell, they all got together and pushed until the base of it was lined up with the base of the first tree.
“There’s a gap in the bridge near the opposite side of the gorge.” Heath pointed to where the trunks of both trees narrowed, creating a barely visible space between the evergreen branches.
“There’s nothing I can do about that, not with how the tree trunks get smaller at the top.” Mikhail used the collar of his shirt to wipe at the sweat beading along his neck. “The trunks are as close together as we can get them on this side.”
“Do we need a third tree?” Dr. Wetherby came up to where he and Heath were standing and nudged the trunk of the newly fallen tree with the toe of his boot. “This looks pretty sturdy.”
“It won’t be this thick and sturdy near the other side.” And he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary risks.
He turned and went to the third tree he’d selected and started chopping. After a few minutes, it fell over the gorge, and they worked to roll it up against the first two trees. Then he stood back to survey his work.
It was the best sort of log bridge they were going to get. But while the trunks were bare and close together on this side of the gorge, thick evergreen branches started to cover the trees about halfway across, making the trunks impossible to walk over.
He picked up his hatchet again and stepped onto the thickest trunk.
“Wait.” A small mittened hand landed on his arm. “What are you doing?” Bryony frowned up at him.
“I need to cut off the branches. I won’t let anyone attempt to cross without doing that first—especially you. The branches are sure to get tangled in your skirt.”
“Let him go, Bry.” Heath nodded toward the other side of the gorge. “We won’t be able to get across the trunks either, with branches in the way, and if one of them causes someone to lose their balance...” He shook his head, his gaze moving to the rushing river at the bottom.
