to speak of through the bush for another half of a mile.
Then suddenly they came to a rock cliff—miraculously, the northern tip of the fire. Griffin eyed the rock. Not so high, maybe forty feet, it had a jutting point, and he figured he could get an excellent view from up there. The burning was behind them now, to the south and west. “I’ll be able to see everything from up there.”
Lyndie craned her neck, too. “Right.” She glanced behind her at the bush. They couldn’t see the flames, but they could hear them, crackling and popping, accompanied by the whistling wind coming through so eerily and the faux darkness of the day.
Uneasiness flickered over her face, the first sign maybe she wasn’t quite as tough as she wanted him to believe. “Stick with me,” he said, and pulled her by the hand close to his side.
“Yeah.” With her free hand, she rubbed her chest as if her lungs ached. His certainly did. “I’ll be so close you’ll be wondering if I’m attached.”
They began their climb. She scrambled up the rock beside him, their shoulders brushing, their legs brushing. He had the inane thought that she smelled…soft. A bundle of contradictions, this woman who was hustling up the rock cliff as if she did it every day, stumbling here and there but still meeting him inch for inch.
The climb wasn’t novice. Rocks interspaced with dry, rough, scratchy vegetation that clung to their arms and legs and exposed faces as they went up.
And up.
“Here.” He pointed out her toe hold when she kept slipping. He reached down for her ankle to put her foot in the right place.
Her gaze flew to his, surprise there, as if she wasn’t used to being helped.
He took his hand off her ankle and put it around her wrist. “Reach here—”
“I’ve got it.” She turned her head away to survey the climb, tickling his nose with her hair.
“Hold here—”
“Really,” she said tightly. “I’ve got it.”
He looked into her face as they hung there, some thirty feet above ground. “You’ve got some trust issues, don’t you.”
Hanging there by her own sheer will, she frowned at him, her chest rising and falling. “I don’t need to trust you. I’m just here to translate.”
“Yeah.” He sidled even closer on the rock they clung to. Beneath them and to the west were the flames. Above them, more rock. She was at his right, and at her right the cliff jutted out in a peak, though they couldn’t see the other side. “So you’ve mentioned a hundred times or so,” he said, thinking they needed to stay away from that jutting edge, where the rock and sand would be uneven, and therefore dangerous to be hanging from.
She squinted at him. “What does that mean, so I’ve mentioned?”
“It means you want me to think you’re only here because you have to be. Well, I don’t buy it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Griffin. Should we examine your head now?”
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall, Lyndie.”
“I won’t.”
Not if sheer will counted for anything. But this wasn’t about sheer will, it was about the elements, and the exhaustion on her face. He was responsible for her out here, and hell if he’d lose another single person on his watch. Ever.
She shifted sideways, away from him, and around the jutting edge.
Just where they shouldn’t go. “Lyndie—”
“Hey,” she called back. “There’s better rocks over here on this side, and softer—”
“No—wait.” He reached out to grab her but she scooted out of his way, and around the corner faster than he expected.
“Shit,” he muttered, going after her. “Slow down, damn it—”
But she wasn’t listening, and had gone completely around the jutting edge so that he couldn’t see her until he followed.
Right onto the unstable hill. Christ. “Lyndie, stop. It’s unstable, you’re going to—”
Her body slipped a little, and she gasped.
Fall. Heart in his throat, he scrambled farther along the slippery hillside to catch
Then suddenly they came to a rock cliff—miraculously, the northern tip of the fire. Griffin eyed the rock. Not so high, maybe forty feet, it had a jutting point, and he figured he could get an excellent view from up there. The burning was behind them now, to the south and west. “I’ll be able to see everything from up there.”
Lyndie craned her neck, too. “Right.” She glanced behind her at the bush. They couldn’t see the flames, but they could hear them, crackling and popping, accompanied by the whistling wind coming through so eerily and the faux darkness of the day.
Uneasiness flickered over her face, the first sign maybe she wasn’t quite as tough as she wanted him to believe. “Stick with me,” he said, and pulled her by the hand close to his side.
“Yeah.” With her free hand, she rubbed her chest as if her lungs ached. His certainly did. “I’ll be so close you’ll be wondering if I’m attached.”
They began their climb. She scrambled up the rock beside him, their shoulders brushing, their legs brushing. He had the inane thought that she smelled…soft. A bundle of contradictions, this woman who was hustling up the rock cliff as if she did it every day, stumbling here and there but still meeting him inch for inch.
The climb wasn’t novice. Rocks interspaced with dry, rough, scratchy vegetation that clung to their arms and legs and exposed faces as they went up.
And up.
“Here.” He pointed out her toe hold when she kept slipping. He reached down for her ankle to put her foot in the right place.
Her gaze flew to his, surprise there, as if she wasn’t used to being helped.
He took his hand off her ankle and put it around her wrist. “Reach here—”
“I’ve got it.” She turned her head away to survey the climb, tickling his nose with her hair.
“Hold here—”
“Really,” she said tightly. “I’ve got it.”
He looked into her face as they hung there, some thirty feet above ground. “You’ve got some trust issues, don’t you.”
Hanging there by her own sheer will, she frowned at him, her chest rising and falling. “I don’t need to trust you. I’m just here to translate.”
“Yeah.” He sidled even closer on the rock they clung to. Beneath them and to the west were the flames. Above them, more rock. She was at his right, and at her right the cliff jutted out in a peak, though they couldn’t see the other side. “So you’ve mentioned a hundred times or so,” he said, thinking they needed to stay away from that jutting edge, where the rock and sand would be uneven, and therefore dangerous to be hanging from.
She squinted at him. “What does that mean, so I’ve mentioned?”
“It means you want me to think you’re only here because you have to be. Well, I don’t buy it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Griffin. Should we examine your head now?”
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall, Lyndie.”
“I won’t.”
Not if sheer will counted for anything. But this wasn’t about sheer will, it was about the elements, and the exhaustion on her face. He was responsible for her out here, and hell if he’d lose another single person on his watch. Ever.
She shifted sideways, away from him, and around the jutting edge.
Just where they shouldn’t go. “Lyndie—”
“Hey,” she called back. “There’s better rocks over here on this side, and softer—”
“No—wait.” He reached out to grab her but she scooted out of his way, and around the corner faster than he expected.
“Shit,” he muttered, going after her. “Slow down, damn it—”
But she wasn’t listening, and had gone completely around the jutting edge so that he couldn’t see her until he followed.
Right onto the unstable hill. Christ. “Lyndie, stop. It’s unstable, you’re going to—”
Her body slipped a little, and she gasped.
Fall. Heart in his throat, he scrambled farther along the slippery hillside to catch
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