Page 24 of Canvas of Lies
With my sense of time and direction now distorted by the endless trees surrounding my position, I guessed fifteen or twenty minutes had passed before I heard the distant sound of Nico yelling my name.
I froze for a second, listening, but he didn’t sound terribly close. My heart hammered so loudly in my chest that I was afraid I wouldn’t hear him coming even if he did manage to reduce the distance my head start had given me.
After another few minutes, the trees opened up before me so suddenly I almost stumbled. Instead of the creek, a steep, rocky incline rose in front of me, stretching like a wall as far as I could see in either direction. Another shout pierced the silence behind me, this one sounding much closer, and I swore colorfully as I scrambled up the rocks.
If the short stints of running had convinced me I was out of shape, trying to scale the incline made me feel like a helpless infant.
“Damn, damn, damn, damn,” I muttered, turning the word into a mantra.
This was nothing like the movies. Each crumbling fingerhold took impossibly long for me to locate and even longer for me to use to haul my body another incremental inch upward. A branch sprouted from the split rock a few feet from the top—I focused on it with single-mindeddetermination.
If I could reach that branch, I could use it to pull myself to the top.
“Go, go, go,” I chanted, biting back a shriek when my left hand slipped and a spray of sediment rained down onto my face.
I closed my eyes just in time to keep the dirt out. Nico had stopped yelling my name, which I hoped meant he’d moved in another direction. This climb was taking far too long.
By the time I wrapped the fingers of my right hand around the tree branch, every muscle in my body trembled in protest. From there, it was only a short distance to the top, but I made the mistake of glancing down and realized my hands were clinging to the rockface ten or twelve feet from the ground.
The drop wouldn’t kill me, but the thought of losing that painstaking progress made me want to weep. I’d just managed to swing my other hand over the branch when I heard Nico stumble to a halt somewhere behind me.
“Jesus, Kat,” he gasped when he caught sight of me dangling against the rocks.
For a moment, I froze, unable—and unwilling—to turn my head to look at him, then I lifted one leg and braced my foot against a tiny ledge to boost myself up another twelve inches or so. If I could just get the other foot up, I’d be high enough to throw my body over the branch and hope it held my weight. From there, reaching the top would be simple.
If I let myself think about how much less time it would probably take Nico and all his impressive muscles to climb up after me, I would cry.
“Kitten,” Nico called, his voice gentle as he slowly approached. “You’ve gone far enough. Let me help you down.”
“Not a chance,” I ground out, then I muffled a whimper as my fingers cramped.
Though the words were soft, I distinctly heard Nico mutter, “Stubborn as ever.”
When I glanced over my shoulder at him, I saw he was out of breath from running after me, his arms and neck scratched from dodging through the underbrush. I refused to feel bad for putting him through that.
A few more inches, that was all I needed.
I managed to find a foothold, adjusted my grip, and tried to propel myself upward, but the rock crumbled beneath my boot and I dropped until my arms were fully extended, painfully wrenching both shoulders as the wound on my arm reopened and warm blood seeped along my skin.
The cry of dismay was past my lips before I could stop it.
“Kat, please,” Nico said, standing below me.
My boots swung just above his head. He reached up to touch my ankle and I kicked out at him so hard he had to back up a few steps to avoid taking a boot to the face.
It was clear to us both that I was just about at the end of my endurance, I knew that when he stepped aside and planted his hands on his hips to wait me out. Sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with dust from the rock debris. If I fell now, the tumble would hurt like hell, but if I made it to the top, Nicomight not be able to catch up to me again. The chance of losing him in the forest was both terrifying and exhilarating.
From the way my arms shook as I managed to crawl another few inches upward, the choice was very likely in the hands of fate at this point. Nico just stood there, watching, probably planning to catch me when I finally lost my grip.
It’d serve him right if I flattened him on my way down.
I would rather chop off my arm than admit defeat in front of him, but I was beginning to suspect this venture was doomed. If my arms gave out and I fell, I’d have very little control over the landing. If I accepted his assistance, I might save myself from bodily injury, though my pride was another story.
“Let me help you,” Nico said softly, as though he’d heard my thoughts.
“I can’t,” I replied, the words coming out in a hoarse whimper. Even if I wanted to agree, I didn’t think I could move my arms enough to let go.
With experience born of a lifetime spent saving me from various scrapes, Nico understood exactly what I meant. The bottom of the incline was a little less steep than the section I’d managed to make it to, so he leaned forward and picked his way up a few feet, until my knees were just above his head. Carefully, he wrapped one hand around my calf.
