Sternly looking her back in the eye, I pull her closer, her hands falling against my chest. Gathering them in a tight grip with my free hand, I lean in and quickly say, “I once told you I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. You’re still the only life worth saving. So, stop being so fucking stubborn and let me take care of you, damn it!”

My eyes lift as the bells reach a piercing high note. Hers do as well as she glances over her shoulder, then quickly looks back my way in terror.

“I trust you,” she breathes. “Truth is, I never stopped.”

Smiling, I guide her to wrap her arms around my waist. “Good girl. Now, don’t let go.”

She laces her hands around my middle, a little tighter than she ever has before and my heart speeds up. Placing my right hand over hers, I give them a light squeeze and then turn my attention back to our only hope out of this.

Reaching out to my left, I struggle with my balance and the weight of both of us, as I try to grip a vine that is just out of reach. A few more rocks fall out from under the ledge we are standing on and I feel her hands shake as she clings to me.

“Hurry, Peter,” I hear her fearful cry and again the dreadful mention of my name falling from her lips.

But this time, it surprisingly doesn’t faze me. It fuels me. It makes me want to save her even more. My arm stretches, fingers extended as far as they can. Grunting, I hear the bells piercing my ears as I reach to the left with all my might.

“Peter,” Wendy calls out again, this time more alarmed than before. “Please, Peter, hurry!”

She shifts her weight, and we almost tumble off the ledge. With a curse, I pull her tighter against my side, her grip now deathly around my middle and try to reach out again. The bells are now screaming in my ears as I take a chance, lean over the ledge with both our weight, jumping at the last second, hopeful and praying I make contact with the vine. Wendy’s screams meld together with the painful pitch of the bells. Her nails scratch into my skin. The vine slips through my fingers and I struggle to grip it as we start to fall swiftly, faster and faster down the mountain. The rope-like vine burns as it slices into my palm the further, we fall.

“Peter,” Wendy screams.