Page 66 of Under Fyre

I look up, try and work out where the hell the roots are coming from. But I don’t see any trees up there. Maybe the tree itself died a long time ago, and—

A cascade of dirt, snow, and tiny stones rains down on me. My heart takes the leap into the gorge below me.

“Arrow, stay!” I use every ounce of power I have in my lungs, my voice bellowing.

Arrow’s answering whine is the last sound I ever want to hear, but at least I know she’ll stay put.

Fuck, if she loses her footing…

I shove the thought out of my head. It’s not constructive in the least. I need a plan. I need to get up there and figure out why Charlotte isn’t the one calling down to me.

That awful, useless thought gets shoved away too.

I carefully test the thickest root I can find. When I lift myself onto one foot, it holds my weight.

I try not to think about the precipitous drop inches behind my heels. I try not to think about what Arrow would do if I slipped and fell. I try—and fail—not to think about whether Charlotte is alive or dead.

Wind gusts against my body, and I shiver.

I should be thankful. Shivering isn’t hypothermia. That comes when the shiveringstops.But it still makes holding onto things that much more difficult.

I’m alive. Arrow’s alive. After that accident, both are blessings.

Fingers numb from the cold struggle to latch on, but I force them to. I force myself up that sheer cliff inch by motherfucking inch. My hands and feet slip more than once.

Somehow I don’t fall.

A root comes loose in my hands, spinning me so my side slams into the rock…

But I hold on—literally—for dear life.

Arrow starts barking when she smells me coming closer. I don’t tell her to stop, because that hoarse bark of hers is a testament to what’s possible.

If she can do it, then so can I.

It becomes my mantra as I scale my way up that cliff, and the journey takes so long that I’m dumbstruck by just how fucking lucky I was.

No matter what, I’ll hold onto that.

And somehow I manage to do it. When I finally throw an arm out and get a big wet tongue swiping over my nose, I know I’m not just lucky to be alive, but fucking fortunate that I’m not alone.

“Okay, girl. Okay. I’m here.”

I hang for a second, and then swing my legs up, hooking the heel of my boot before dragging my body out of the sucking gravity below.

Rolling, I make sure I’m several feet away from the edge before I dare to let my muscles relax. Arrow limps over to me, and I immediately know something’s wrong. Because while she’s had a limp for a long time, this is far more pronounced. She’s not putting any weight on her back paw, and I can see a streak of dark, dried blood on her front shoulder.

“What happened?”

And that question opens the floodgates. I scramble up, hissing as my stiff ankle takes weight for the first time and sends a bolt of pain through my leg.

“Where is she?”

Arrow whines.

“Where is my girl? Where is Charlotte?”

The car is gone. Charlotte is gone.

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