The boots of the Nein crunched steadily through the snow up the mountain path. Caleb let the others trail on ahead of him a little way, still poring over the book he’d managed to scavenge out of the half-burned inn they’d passed nearly half a day before.
It was written in an older, stilted dialect of Sylvan, but he could understand just enough of it to study without using his Comprehend Languages spell. It referenced a few spells, had a few glyphs on damaged pages in the back, and he was reasonably sure that he’d be able to pull some good information out of it if he just had the chance to really read it.
(And it had been so long since he had a new book.)
But the trail called, light was fading, and in a few hours they’d be stopping for camp. So he read while he walked, letting the others walk a little ahead of him so their conversation wouldn’t disturb his focus.
“Cay-leb!” Jester skipped back to walk beside him, craning over his arm to try to look in his face. “You can’t walk in the back like this; you’re too squishy! What if a snow bear comes to carry you away?”
“There are no snow bears here,” he replied, trying to keep his voice friendly enough that he wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but brusque enough that she’d leave him alone.
“Or stone giants could appear over the mountain side and hurl rocks at you!”
“I think they would aim for the larger threat, ja?”
“Or the yeti! The abominable snowman! He could come roaring up out of the snow and knock you right off the cliff!” She opened her mouth in a theatrical snarl, showing off her fangs, and raised her hands in hooked claws up above her head.
He sighed and rubbed one hand across his forehead. “The only one in danger of falling off the cliff is you, Jester. This spot is too narrow for anything other than single-file.”
“It’s fine. See?” In response, Jester took another step away from him and held her arms straight out, spinning in a circle. “What if an ice mephit comes swooping up over the cliff and stabs you full of icicles!” She jabbed at him playfully, hands still spread out into claws. “You’re so scrawny, he could pick you up and carry you off to his nest!”
Caleb snapped the book shut and held it against his chest, resigned now to walking with the exuberant Tiefling. “Surely I smell too bad to be tempting to an ice mephit?”
Jester theatrically darted forward and took a long sniff. “It’s getting better,” she replied dubiously. “Not as good as Ford, but much less stinky than when we first met. I still think you should get a new coat.”
He tugged the coat tighter around himself. “I like this coat.”
“We could get a new one just like it,” she replied, now pinching a bit of his sleeve between her fingers. “But this one’s full of holes, and you won’t even let me patch them.”
He liked the holes. They were, in a way, a map of his own story. Something that most people never noticed, would never think to alter if they tried to manipulate his mind again. Maybe someday he’d be ready for a new one, but not right now. And especially not with Jester pushing so hard like it was all a joke.
Jester sighed and let her hand drop, but still kept pace with him. “So. What’s in the book?”
He glanced briefly down at the stained leather. “It would appear to be a mage’s research notes, though they are difficult to decipher. I will know more when I have time to focus on it.”
“Are there any…you know…” Jester waggled her eyebrows at him, and for a split second one corner of his mouth tried to twitch upward.
“I’m afraid not. It is just, ah, just research.”
Jester blew out a raspberry. “Boring!” she announced in a sing-song voice. “Tusk Love is much better.”
Caleb didn’t even bother replying to that, just kept his focus on the path in front of them. One step after the other. When he looked up, he was a little surprised at how far ahead of them the others had gotten. “We should catch up with the others, come on,” he said, nodding toward the rest of the group.
“Fine. I didn’t really want a private walk with you anyway,” Jester teased, raising her chin in an attempt at seeming aloof, which was disproven by the smile sparkling in her eyes. She danced ahead a few steps and spun back around to blow him a kiss.
“Jester, please be careful,” Caleb called. He’d been sticking as close to the wall as he could, not wanting to risk a slip over the cliff’s edge. Jester, however, was so close to the outer edge he could see the rising wind snatch at the hem of her dress.
“It’s fine, Cay-leb,” she said, drawing out his name in a lilting voice. “See? Just—fuck!”
It happened all at once. A rock, unseen beneath the snow, shifted under Jester’s foot and she stumbled back, arms pinwheeling through the air. Caleb let his book fall to the path and lunged for her, just managing to catch one of her flailing wrists as she started to go over backward. Her weight dragged at him, and he was pulled off his feet to slam chest-first into the rocky path. Jester went over the side with a squawk of panic, dangling from one wrist, kicking and swinging against him as she tried to regain her footing.
Caleb slid a little further toward the edge. He gritted his teeth and tried to grab for something, anything, to brace himself against the Tiefling’s weight. His fingers dug into loose rock and stone, not enough to anchor himself to keep her from dragging both of them over. His feet kicked in the air as he tried to build enough momentum to counter hers, to pull them back.
“Jester,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Don’t…don’t move so much. Just stay still.”
“Oh gosh,” Jester moaned. “Caleb, you have to let me go. You’re too puny, you’ll never pull us both up.”
He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. “Is there…do you have any handholds?”
Jester swung again, her weight pulling at his shoulder. He grit his teeth against the pain, focusing only on keeping his fingers clenched around her wrist.
“You should just let me go,” Jester said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. “It isn’t even that far down, I’ll be fine.”
Caleb risked opening his eyes to see and slammed them shut immediately as the sharp drop off the side of the mountain swam before him. He couldn’t have let go of her now if he wanted to; his entire body was locked up with fear.
They slid forward another inch, ice and gravel grinding into his chest. There was a painful lump poking him in the ribs—he’d probably landed on a rock, hard enough to bruise from the feel of it.
“Help!” Jester suddenly screamed. “Somebody help! He’s too squishy to pull me up!”
He huffed out an unexpected laugh as they were dragged forward just a little bit more. Now his head and shoulders were hanging out over open space, his free hand grappling for purchase along the edge. “Jester…”
“Caleb!” A small body collided with his legs, wrapping around them, adding a fraction of weight to his. Nott. “What are you doing? You’re going to fall!”
“I’ve gotcha.” Fjord, right next to him. One hand on his back, the other reaching down to seize Jester’s wrist, right below his grasp. “Jessie, think you can swing over to Beau?”
Beau on his other side, as steady and surefooted as always. “This is gonna suck, man,” she warned.
And it did. It sucked. With Fjord’s help, Jester swung over toward Beau, the movement tearing new agony into his already-abused shoulder. But then Beau had Jester’s other hand, and Fjord was gently prying Caleb’s fingers open so Beau could drag their cleric to safety.
Then…hands in his belt. The gravel scraping up over his chest and chin as the vast expanse past the cliff’s edge slid out of view. Caleb curled up, gasping, in the snow where they left him, barely listening to Jester’s rushed explanation of what had happened.
Nott crept up to his side, gently wiping the cover of the book he’d dropped when he lunged after Jester. “I think a few of the pages are wrinkled,” she whispered, holding it out to him.
He managed to wave vaguely at her. “Give me a moment.” Nott nodded and crouched next to him, clutching the book to her chest.
“Hey, Caleb,” Fjord crouched down next to Nott and rested a hand on Caleb’s shoulder—the uninjured one. “Path gets a little wider ‘bout a hundred feet up, looks like a good place to camp. Think you can make it that far?”
Right. Get moving. Find camp. Press on. He nodded and braced his hands to push himself up, only to collapse back into the snow with a whimper as his shoulder gave out. It didn’t feel dislocated, but he’d definitely wrenched something.
One more for the squishy wizard.
“Here we go.” Fjord’s touch was gentle as the half-orc pulled him to his feet, stabilizing him when he stumbled. “Adrenaline’s a hell of a thing, right?”
“Ja.” He waited for Fjord to move away, but the other man seemed determined to stay beside him. “I am all right, you should tend to Jester.”
“Beau’s already taken her halfway up the trail,” Fjord replied. “We’re waiting on you.”
Right. The trail. He took a hesitant step, relieved when Nott slipped a hand into his, on his good side. Fjord stayed close, just a few steps behind, ready to catch him if he stumbled, as he slowly crept his way forward. If either of his companions felt inconvenienced by his slow pace, they kept it to themselves, and he was grateful for their silent support.
They found the others already setting up camp. Caduceus was settling a teapot over a low flame, while Yasha gently cleared the ground to give them a more comfortable place to rest.
“Think you’re up for your bubble?” Fjord asked softly.
“Ja, of course,” Caleb reached into his component pouch and winced as the movement pulled at his sore shoulder. “Maybe in a minute?”
“Of course,” Fjord smiled. “Just rest up, let Cad take a look at that shoulder. There’s no rush.”
Caleb nodded. He skirted around the edge of the space Yasha was clearing to sit down by the rough stone side of the mountain and leaned back against it and closed his eyes.
Someone sitting next to him, close enough to bump into his shoulder, made him open his eyes to see an unusually subdued Jester. “Sorry I tried to pull us off a cliff,” she murmured.
“Ja, well,” he half-shrugged, leaning into her arm. “I think that was mostly gravity.”
Jester seemed to consider this for a moment, then heaved out a deep sigh and relaxed against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Gravity’s a bitch.”
Caleb actually laughed at that, some of the tension finally fading away. “You might be right.”