I swallowed. “Well, I don’t have faith in you, so what’s left?”
His answer was soft, but it hit me like a hammer. “Staying alive.”
We stood in ragged silence. Our argument had begun to circle like vultures, voices rising and accomplishing nothing. My lungs constricted; I breathed in a shaky, ragged hiss before nodding once.
A silent truce.
Caiden stepped forward first. I watched his boots scrape against the bark, sending a few grains of moss fluttering down like green snow. He leaned back and slid along a thick horizontal branch, body angled, arms tight around the trunk. The branch groaned but held him, its surface dark with damp and lichen.
I held my breath, willing the world tofreeze so I could memorize every nuance: how his weight distributed evenly, how his thighs pinched the bark, how his fingertips curled into the wood’s deep grooves.
If I failed, it would be on me. No one else.
Halfway down, he paused, looking up with eyes cold and steady. “I suppose you should come on down. I’ll stay here in case you slip.”
My throat tightened. “You think I can’t do it?”
His exhale was a wounded sigh. “If you don’t want my help, fine. I’ll keep going without you.”
A vicious knot of guilt and fear twisted in my gut. I swallowed. “Fine.”
I lowered myself onto the branch’s edge, calves pressed against its rough surface. The wind whipped past my face, whipping stray hairs into my eyes. My fingers found the bark’s ridges, hard and splintered. I pushed off, sliding down inch by inch. My heart hammered as panic curled around my ribs. Every centimeter felt like miles.
“You’re doing great,” Caiden’s voice came from above, flat but piercing through my terror.
I gritted my teeth, teeth chattering against the cold. My last full meal was hours ago, and with every movement, my muscles trembled. The bark ground against my palms, skin tearing, blood warm and sticky on my fingers.
Then, my grip failed. My right hand slipped on a patch of moss. My palm scraped along the trunk, skin shredding against the unforgiving grooves. A gasp tore from my throat.
“Caiden!” I screamed, fingers slipping free, body tilting dangerously toward open air.
“Hold on!” His voice cracked. I heard the scuffle of boots against wood as he began ascending toward me.
I closed my eyes, panic flaring hotter than the midday sun. “Please don’t let me die,” I sobbed, voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not going to let you die,” he assured me, and there was something raw and honest in his tone.
I felt rough, calloused palms wrap around my waist, gripping me like a vise. His arms were awkward at first, half hugging me,half wrestling to find purchase. Warmth radiated from his body, coursing through my chilled bones.
For a moment, the world stilled. No wind, no roaring abyss, just the beat of his heart and the press of his chest against my back.
The heat faded as his arms slipped, the urgency snapping me awake. I dug my fingers into the bark above my head, muscles screaming in protest, and slowly, painstakingly, hauled myself upright.
Caiden exhaled relief that feathered against my neck.
Was he truly relieved? Happy I was still alive? I shoved the thought aside. There would be time later for questions.
He resumed his descent, and I followed, each movement mirroring his. My breaths came in sharp gasps: inhale, exhale, inhale.
I needed to have faith.
But, I lost it long ago. Sometime in my preteen years, when every harsh word from my mother and every cruel taunt from Caiden chipped away at my spirit.
I had become a hollow shell, a cracked house rusting in the rain, haunted by midnight demons.
At last, with trembling relief, I landed on solid ground beside him. He gave me a hand to steady myself; his touch was gentle despite the tremor in his grip.
The tiny alcove at the base of the tree pressed us so close my back was against his chest, our breaths mingling. My heart thundered with exhaustion.
