As he approached the drop-off, he saw an orange scarf caught on a tree branch to his right. He almost released a sigh of relief—it was the first physical sign they were in the right area where the girl might be. But the proximity of the scarf to the edge of the cliff had his pulse racing. The high angle, steep incline was treacherous...the slippery rocks a major hazard.

“Orange scarf located,” he said over the radio. “Proceeding with caution to edge of Wild Canyon Peak, hoping to obtain a visual.” Hooking a carabiner to his belt and fastening the harness support to the tree, he moved toward the edge.

It was dark and the light reflecting off the snow hindered his ability to see into the depths, so he shut off the light as he scanned the rocky edge. “Rebecca!” he called, his voice reverberating off the mountain.

To his right, several other rescuers approached. He motioned for them to stay back, as a block of snow gave way beneath his right foot, shaking him slightly off balance. The child may not have realized how close she was to the edge, because of the unsteady footing and false ground.

“Rebecca!” he called again, moving closer. Rocks covered in shimmering frost were like glass beneath his boots. He peered over the edge, a shiver running through him as he took in the thousand-foot drop. No one could survive that fall.

“Hello.”

The sound was barely audible above the howling wind, but a rush of heat flowed through him as he turned toward it, about twenty feet below him to the right. Turning on the light again, he scanned the area. There she was. Sitting on a six-inch-wide ledge, her head rested against the side of the mountain, her eyes shut tight. Wind beat against her with so much force, Reed feared she could be blown off the ledge any second.

The clock was ticking. They needed to move fast.

“Hi, Rebecca. I’m coming to help you. Just stay right where you are. You’re doing great.” He had no way of knowing if that was true or not, he couldn’t assess her well-being from this distance, but he needed to reassure her. Providing relief and a sense of safety was an essential part of the rescue. If the endangered believed they were now safe, they were more proactive in their rescue.

“I’ve located Rebecca. Side of Wild Canyon Peak. She is responsive,” he said over the radio, as two crew members approached after securing their own harnesses.

“How are we proceeding?” Wade Baxter, one of the rescue leaders, asked.

It was Reed’s month as head rescue leader, therefore he was calling the shots. “I’ll rappel to her, assess injuries and check approach angles. Get a litter ready in case we need it.”

The man nodded, motioning forward two support crew members who dragged the carrier on the snow behind them.

“Frank, can you belay me?”

“Yes.” The older man, who’d been a team member for over twenty-five years, was the best person Reed could have at his side in that moment. Since retiring, he rarely came out on rescues anymore, but when there was a child involved, alone and lost, it was all hands on deck.