He walks the length of the beam on the ground beside me, the blue light of the Teeth’s jaw casting a long shadow behind him.
“Now I want you to turn around and walk three steps the other way.”
I groan. “Do I have to?”
Judd laughs. “Come on, Gildy.”
He’s had me do this very move so many times, but I always lose my damn balance. My body still wants to rely on the ribbons that are no longer there. Still, I force myself to twist my back foot and spin around...only to go pitching right off the beam and landing ass-first in the needling hay on the ground.
They’re pokey. It doesn’t feel great.
I let out a growl of frustration, slapping my hand against the beam and then getting even more aggravated when tiny splinters break off into it. I yank off my glove and toss it to the floor.
“Again.”
I cut Judd a look. “I hate you.”
“Gotta walk before you can run, Gildy. Or in your case, gotta balance before you can stop falling on your ass.”
“Thank you for bestowing that wisdom.”
He dusts off the shoulder of his black coat. “Anytime.”
I stand back up onto the beam, trying to ignore my throbbing feet and smarting ankles, my arms automatically lifting up to try and steady my balance. The muscles in my legs tighten to keep me steady.
“Walk all the way to the end.”
I nod and go slowly, but my eyes flick down to double-check I’m not about to go walking right off the edge.
“I saw that. No peeking.”
I swear this man has an uncanny ability to know where I’m looking. Yanking my eyes back up, I keep my line of sight at the other end of the cave.
“Don’t overthink it. There you go... Now stop and turn.”
I do it without thought, spinning on the ball of my foot...and I actually don’t fall over. Instead, my other foot plants perfectly in front of the one I just swiveled, and then before I know it, I’m successfully facing the other way.
My eyes go wide, and a huge grin comes over my face. “I did it!”
“Very good,” he says with a clap. “Now let’s do that ten more times.”
My smile melts right off my face. “Shouldn’t we just end on this high note?”
“Nice try,” he says, walking up to be parallel with me. “Now that we know you can do it, you’re going to master it.”
Judd isn’t kidding about doing it ten times. I probably do it about forty more times in all, because he doesn’t count it if I fall or flail or stumble.
The jerk.
By the time I manage to complete my tenth one, I collapse on the ground, knees up in front of me, elbows leaning on them as I drop my head toward my lap and pant. I’m covered in sweat and splinters, and my feet arekillingme.
“My ankles feel like they want to burst through my skin.”
“You did well,” Judd says, coming up to me and passing me some water.
I guzzle it down, not even caring that some of it drips from the sides of my lips and goes down my chin. When I hand it back to him, I say, “Thanks for pushing me, Judd.”
“Anytime. Now, don’t forget to get some snow and use it to ice your feet and legs. Because tomorrow, we’ll be doing more beam work.”
