“There are also still strong gusts of wind.” Margo stood, moved toward the entrance, lifted the tarpaulin, and glanced out.
“I know,” Ace told her. “I’ll be careful.”
She looked at him for a long moment with a particular, assessing expression. “You’re not going out there alone.” Margo glanced outside again. “I’m coming with you.”
“Fine, but stick close to me,” Ace advised, moving toward the slickers. “And do as I say.”
Margo nodded and took the slicker Ace handed her. They put them on and then snuck out of the cave. Outside was a different world from inside the cave. The air hit him immediately, cold and full of moisture, not the driving horizontal rain that had first hit the island, but the heavy, intermittent downpour of a storm that was retreating without grace. And still throwing weight around in the spaces between its larger movements. The sky above the tree line was the gray of old pewter, low and packed with cloud, and the light it gave was flat and strange, making everything look like the beginning of something rather than the end.
The ground was saturated. Ace’s boots found solid purchase on the rock near the entrance but slipped slightly on the wet soil at the edge of the cave’s apron, and he adjusted his weight, slowed his pace, and moved with the deliberate care of someone who had already spent too much time dealing with the consequences of moving too quickly in difficult conditions.
Margo was right beside Ace, her hood pulled up, her eyes scanning the ground ahead.
“Stick to the rock where you can,” Ace told her.
“Okay,” Margo moved a little closer behind him.
The tree line was eight feet from the cave entrance, and the fallen wood was there exactly as he had predicted. Lots of branches were brought down by the wind during the storm. Some of them were still wet but workable. While others that had landed under the partial shelter of the canopy were damp rather than soaked. Ace started collecting the wood, pulling the best pieces, and stacking them under his arm. Margo did the same beside him without being asked or shown how. Ace smiled to himself, remembering the many summer camps they had spent on this island growing up. Being taught by the island’s rangers how to gather wood. How to shelter down in a storm. Plants and creatures to avoid, and many other basic survival skills. They had all grown up knowing this island, the forest and shoreline surrounding Sandpiper Shores like the back of their hand. Ace had often bragged he could probably navigate around their town and the forest blind folded. He raised a brow at the memory as it hit. They had tried that once when they were about sixteen. It had ended with him breaking his arm. Ace gave a soft laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Margo asked.
“Just thinking of the time I tried to navigate the campgrounds blindfolded,” Ace reminded her.
“Ah!” Margo nodded. “My mother and your grandmother were not very happy with you. As I recall, we had to rush you to the clinic with a broken arm and a concussion.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t one of my best dares,” Ace stopped and laughed. “I miss those days.” He sighed.
“I do too,” Margo agreed with him. “And our group of daredevils.”
“We did get up to some crazy things,” Ace said with a nostalgic sigh as a gust of wind hit them, reminding them that nature wasn’t quite through with its temper tantrum yet. “We’d better get what we have inside.” He glanced at the pile Margo had already gathered. “You have more than your fill as well.”
“Agreed,” Margo said with a nod.
“Come on,” Ace called and turned with an armful of wood, looking toward the cave entrance. “Let’s get back.”
Margo carefully moved past him to go first, moving back across the apron of rock toward the entrance with her armload of branches. Ace followed a step behind her, his eyes on the ground, reading the surface the way he’d been reading surfaces since they came out. But a spurt of rain hit him at an awkward angle, temporarily blinding him.
Ace wiped his eyes and saw the slick patch of rock a fraction of a second too late.
“Margo—” Ace bellowed as she hit it at the wrong angle.
Her boot went out from under her on the left side with the particular, horrible suddenness of a fall that offered no negotiation. Ace acted without a second thought. He dropped an armload of wood and lunged forward, getting both hands on her arms, pulling hard and fast. Margo came toward him, grabbing his jacket as she found her footing. They stood at the edge ofthe rock apron together, both breathing harder than the exertion warranted.
“I’ve got you,” Ace said, as she trembled in his arms, her head turning toward the drop beside them.
“You saved me,” Margo breathed heavily, swallowing against the shock. “Thank you.”
Ace let out a breath and straightened.
“We need to be careful here,” Ace advised her.
“The wood!” Margo’s head turned to where it had hit the ground, some of it spilling over the edge of the crevice.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ace told her. “I’ll grab it.” He glanced behind her. “Just turn and then step slowly onto the level ground.” Her eyes flew to his in wide panic, and he gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.”
Margo did as Ace told and then took a step back toward level ground. Once she was clear, Ace bent to get a few of the branches that lay in front of him. As he did that, Ace’s right boot hit the wet rock at the edge where the apron dropped away to the lower ground. The section he had just carefully guided Margo over. Before he could correct himself on the water-slicked surface and with the awkward angle giving him nothing to correct with, Ace went over the edge.
Not a fall. Not exactly. He caught the lip of the rock with both hands as he went, his arms taking the weight with a jolt that rang through his shoulders. Ace’s heart pounded as his hands gripped the wet rock edge, his legs finding nothing below them but a four-foot drop onto slick, uneven ground with the angle all wrong for landing.
