Page 36 of Katya and the Young God

There’s a pause in all of the non-cave experts, as they all—Katya included—look down at the pit of crystals and contemplate what they’re doing with their lives.

“Fine,” Pieter says, nudging Katya out of the way with his shoulder in what could have been a rough move, but strangely isn’t. “I’ve done it before, it isn’t that bad.” The last part is directed to the group in general, and a surprisingly large number of people flinch.

But then again, she hasn’t seen him talk to anyone there today except her, so their wariness tracks.

He holds perfectly still as Nathan fits a five-point harness on him, pulling the tabs so they’re snug, and the scowl never leaves his face. But, right before they clip him to the carabineer on the rope, his eyes flicker to Katya, for the briefest of seconds.

But before she can parse out what he means, he steps off the edge, his hands gripping the rope, and despite the tension in the room he doesn’t fall, the grip doesn’t slip, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Slowly, ever so slowly, hand over hand, he pulls himself along the rope, and even from across the room she can see the lines of concentration on his face.

So, not an easy task, no matter how the cavers make it seem.

The moment his feet hit the ground on the other side and the caver pulls him closer by the harness, he scrambles to get it off, like it’s just as unpleasant as it seems, but...

But it’s not impossible.

Rory steps up next, once the carabineer and harness are back over the rope, and while Vampires have a tendency to be frail, they also have a tendency to be light and nimble, and they make it over without too much of an issue.

After the two proof of concepts and the success of someone demonstrably weaker than Katya, Katya steps forward next.

She knows she’s imagining it, but a hush seems to fall over the group, as once again she doesn’t back out of something, as once again she’s not a coward. Like they actually expect her to leave at any point.

Nathan fits the harness over her, and combined with the bag it tugs right along the injury, pinching the scar tissue and sending pins and needles along her arm. He tugs it tight, tighter than any body armor she’s ever worn, but she doesn’t let the pain cross her face.

“You got this?” He asks, and his face is kind. Friendly, even.

“Just one hand over another.”

“And if you need a pause, we have anchors on either side, you won’t fall.” He didn’t give this warning to either the Demigod or the Vampire, but still, it’s nice. “Even if your hands slip, you won’t fall too far.”

Any fall is too far in her mind, but she nods once, curt, facing the lip on their side.

Below, the crystals glitter, like lit from within. No other crystal they’ve seen so far shimmered like that.

With that great thought, gripping the rope as tightly as she can, she steps off the lip.

There’s a small drop, before the ropes catch, and she’s steady, midair over the glittering points, and she breathes out through her nose.

Immediately, her bad arm goes numb, and she can manipulate her fingers, can form them into a fist and pull, but all dexterity and fidelity are gone.

Another deep breath, not deep enough, and she reaches out with her good arm, pulling herself along, slow, and the smooth nylon rope grips against her climbing glove, and when she reaches with her bad arm, it only stabilizes a little.

So she pauses, holds herself still, not letting her legs windmill, her gut clenched tight, before she reaches out again. Another pull. Another stab of pain in her shoulder. Another moment where she doesn’t know if her hand will obey her, if her fingers will fail her, if she’ll drop, and...

Another pull, another moment of panic, and sweat drips between her shoulder blades, the lines of the harness chafing against her skin. The sweat blurs her vision, briefly, but she doesn’t want to release her meager grip to wipe it away, so she grits her teeth, moving along, and —

Hands on the harness, pulling her up, her feet hitting the lip of the other side, and her knees buckle as she’s yanked onto solid ground.

The caver’s deft hands unclip the harness, and she gets pulled in, deeper, away from the lip, before her legs go out entirely and she sits, hard, on the stone ground.

Somehow, she’s aware of the harness and carabineer getting sent back, the rattle of the metal against the ropes, and the ground is hard against her ass, and she hisses between her teeth.

“Easy,” Pieter murmurs, and he’s close, crouched next to her, and it jolts her back. “The others are watching.”

She jerks her head up, but no one is looking, as the other group is entirely focused on Feketer slowly picking his way across on the ropes.

She blows out a breath, and her back is pressed up against the stone wall, bones mere inches away. Clenching her bad hand into a fist, she marvels at the small explosion of pain before it fizzles away into more pins and needles.

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