Kerinna paused, looking at the lush greenery lining the path. She knew from previous trips up those treacherous stairs that the tall oak tree just within vision marked the end of the slippery climb. She often made the trip up the side of the cliff, always with the same plan. And yet here she was, sweating like anything as she laboured up yet again. And she knew she’d do it again tomorrow.

The edge was centimeters away from her; the view dizzyingly beautiful. But once again she turned her back and sat down in the shade of the old oak tree. Thoughts clouded into her head. The events of the days since her last dutiful climb played through her mind. Again she saw the words on the page. Her handwriting, yet she had not written them. She would never have written that, not those words. An image floated to the surface of the incoherent lake of memories: His face, torn by grief and despair. Had she caused it? Was she able to cause such pain? Tears stung in her eyes and barely audible words of apology escaped her lips.

The sun was a good deal higher than it had been when she’d reached the top of the winding staircase. It beat down relentlessly on the person climbing. His hair was matted with sweat from his effort, but he didn’t stop running. His long legs took the steps two at a time. She never turned to look, but she knew. She knew by his hoarse breathing and steady, pounding leaps. She knew by the smell of his sweat. Hearing him reach the top and kneel down beside her, she finally turned to look. She bit back a gasp and wrenched her eyes away. He wasn’t the broken-hearted boy she had left only hours before. Every inch of him spoke of confidence and purpose. Determination shone challengingly from his deep brown eyes. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her up and herded her back to the stairs.

In many ways going down the stairs was more perilous than climbing up. Kerinna felt the firm presence behind her push her on to a speed greater than was safe. But she didn’t care. He was fine; she hadn’t caused him to break. Relief flooded through her, seeping into every pore, every tiny bit of skin. The pace he was pushing for increased. She had to get down. She should never have gone up. Had she really believed she should die? The thought seemed impossible; she felt so alive.

Her foot slipped and she felt herself falling. Everything became clear: his cold determination, his hurrying pace down the steps. He knew he couldn’t push her, but he could make her push herself. Cold air roared around her, soothing after her exertion in the hot sun. She couldn’t hear anything; speed caused her eyes to water. But she felt the collision when she hit the ground. She felt the bones in her body shatter as every bit of air was forced out of her. She felt…nothing.