Fine. Turn around. Go back down.
Except… when I do, my breath catches. The slope is far steeper than I realised. What felt like a a harmless climb now looks like a mistake waiting to happen. I scan the hillside desperately for any hint of a path, but all I see is rough grass, scattered rocks and a drop I really don’t fancy testing.
“Okay. Stay calm,” I whisper to myself, even though the wobble in my voice gives me away.
I try one slow step downward. Gravel shifts beneath my boot, sliding downwards. My legs lock instantly. Another step. Worse. Every inch of my body feels exposed, as if the wind could shove me off balance with the slightest move.
I try to breathe through it. Look for landmarks. Anything. But the cloud keeps sinking, swallowing the hillside until everything looks like smudged charcoal shapes.
“I shouldn’t have come this far,” I say through clenched teeth, heart thudding hard enough that I feel it in my palms.
I angle sideways, hoping for a kinder line. The ground only gets rougher. A rock shifts under my foot and a sharp spike of panic shoots up my spine. Instinct takes over and I drop into a crouch, fingers digging into the damp grass as if the earth might steady me.
I don’t know where I am.
And I can’t see a path back.
The cloud sweeps in fully, thick and cold against my face. Visibility plummets. My breath turns shaky. The hillside vanishes into grey.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Today, life is trying to test me.
Chapter 15
Alex
By the time I’veshowered and dragged myself back into the rescue centre kitchen, the adrenaline has worn off and the tiredness has set in properly. My muscles ache, my eyes feel gritty, and my stomach is basically gnawing on itself. Phil and I had planned to grab breakfast together, but the moment he stepped out of the changing room his phone rang. Something about a burst pipe at the National Trust property. He mouthed “sorry” at me and sprinted off like he was chasing an escaped sheep. So much for breakfast.
I rummage through the small fridge and find a lonely yoghurt pot shoved behind a crate of milk. Blueberry. Slightly questionable. I check the date. Only yesterday. That counts as fresh in this place. I grab a spoon, peel back the lid and shovel in the first mouthful like a man on the verge of starvation.
I’m halfway through scraping the sides when the kitchen door opens and Nick strolls in. The smirk he wore earlier is gone. He looks… unsettled. Almost sheepish. Which is a first.
He opens his mouth. I hold up a yoghurt-coated spoon before he can get a syllable out.
“Not now,” I say through a mouthful. “I’ve had four hours of sleep and a morning of idiots on hills. Whatever you’re about to say, save it.”
He shuts his mouth. Clears his throat. Tries again. “Alex, I—”
I cut him off with another spoon-wave. “Mate. Seriously. Later.”
He actually obeys. Which is frankly terrifying. He leans back against the counter and stares at the floor as though he’s rehearsing an apology in his head. I’m trying to decide whether this makes me more suspicious or less when my phone rings.
I glance at the screen and can’t stop the smile that jumps into my chest like someone’s flicked on a light. Emma. I’ve barely stopped thinking about her since last night.
I swipe to answer, already softening. “Morning, gorgeous.”
There’s a pause. Not long, but long enough to feel… off.
“Hi,” she says, and the cheer in my chest falters. Her voice is thin around the edges, stretched tight.
Everything in me sharpens, but I keep my tone easy. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Yes. Completely fine. I just—” Another small pause. “How, um… how would someone get down from the Ambleside Horseshoe? In theory.”
A slow, cold thread winds down my spine.
“In theory?” I repeat, still gentle. Still giving her every chance to tell me she’s actually calling from her sofa with a cup of tea.
She exhales, shaky. “In theory… if someone went for a walk. And didn’t end up quite where they meant to.”
