It’s familiar. It’s home.
“I think he feels like he’s onlyhalfliving sometimes, though, not being able to do all the things he loves,” Thorn goes on, stepping over a thick, gnarled root. “This was his favorite place in the world.”
I carefully step over the same root. We’re so close to the top, only one more turn to go—and I’m so, so ready. I’m keenly aware of the dizzying elevation we’ve covered, and of how narrow this path is, only eight feet between the cliff wall to our right and the steep drop-off of switchbacks at our left. I’m ready for the relative safety of the scenic overlook, ready for a break.
I’m just past the thick root when the world turns to slow motion: there’s a strong tug at my pack, someone trying to steady themselves by using me as their anchor—and then the world goes sideways, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with the rough cliff wall.
I’m okay, I tell myself, breathing hard from the surprise of it, and from the relief that I’ve fallenawayfrom the steep drop-off and not toward it.
But then I register Brittany, who was right behind me, now dangerously close to the edge as she struggles to regain her balance. She must have tripped on that thick root—and tried, unsuccessfully, to stabilize by grabbing onto my pack.
Her shoes are covered in mud—she’s sliding—
And I’m too slow, too stunned, to help.
Silas, who’s closest, springs into action, grasping the handle of Brittany’s backpack—but the straps start to slide off her shoulders, and she’s still flailing, seconds away from a treacherous plummet. Thorn is at her side a split second later, curling one strong arm around her waist to pull her back from the edge.
The rest of us look on, speechless.
Brittany, shaking, lets out a wail that echoes far below. Parker and Emma rush to her; Silas stands as a strong barrier so they don’t come anywhere close to the edge.
“Are you okay?” Emma asks, while Parker’s face says everything we’re all thinking: Brittany could havediedjust now. We’re high enough up, and the terrain is rocky enough below, that the fall wouldn’t just have been painful—it would have been devastating.
I blink, my cheeks hot with tears as that reality sinks in.
That could have been any of us. That could have beenme.
“My ankle!” is all Brittany, breathless, can manage.
I can see the swelling even from here. What will she do? It’s not like we have crutches just lying around, and we still have a long way to go before the end of the trek.
Also, I cannot reiterate this enough: Brittany almost died.
My mouth has gone dry at the mere thought of it. It’sterrifying.
Life—the gift ofbeing alive—suddenly feels much more fragile than it did just a few minutes ago.
“Can you put any weight on it at all?” Thorn asks.
His deep voice is calm, controlled. The only hint of stress I see on him is the crease between his eyebrows—well, that and the veins popping on his lean forearms, adrenaline still going strong.
Brittany winces as she tests it out, shakes her head. She’s clearly in a lot of pain.
It’s slow going after that. Brittany wraps her arms around Silas and Hunter, who support her as she hops on her good foot; they’re both tall and sturdy, while she’s petite but athletic. When we all finally make it up to the top, the guys settle Brittany onto a bench at the scenic overlook while the rest of us take in the view.
“Hey, Danica,” I overhear Thorn saying ten minutes in to our extended break. He left a voicemail for her immediately after the incident, but she only just called him back.
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. No, I think she’s done—yeah.” His voice sounds more exhausted than I expected, given how rare it is for himto ever seem anything but perfectly composed, perfectly capable. “Can we push the supply drop up by a day, do it tonight instead? If we skip Thimbleberry, we can be at Wild Gate by six, if that works for you.”
When he’s off the phone a few minutes later, my curiosity gets the better of me.
“What’s Wild Gate?” I ask.
“It’s a campsite,” he replies. “A little less remote than the other places we’ve spent the night—running water, toilets, the works. We always do supply drops there since it’s somewhat accessible by car, but Danica will still have to hike about a quarter mile in order to get to us. It’s the closest spot for a pickup if Brittany can’t finish out the trek.”
I take it in: Brittany will most likely be leaving us tonight.
I’m not particularly close with Brittany, but it will be weird to not have her here. She’s got good energy and she’s always sharing her snacks.
