Callanach threw himself forwards, wrapping an arm around her thigh, feeling her slipping away from him. Scrabbling at the rock face, the flailing of her body was making it harder to hold her. The wind whipped around her head, taking her screams down the sheer castle wall.

‘Ava, I’m pulling you up on three. Tense your stomach, stop grabbing the walls and reach for my arm!’ he yelled with no way of knowing if she’d heard.

Forcing his boot tips over the ninety degree angle of the wall he was lying on to gain some stability, Callanach tensed.

‘One, two …’

She wrenched on his arm, moving too early, too jerkily. Her leg ripped away from him as she got a grasp of his hand.

‘Hold me!’ she screeched.

Blood was pouring down her face, and her grip was wet and weak on his hand. Both legs flew out behind her in the wind.

He scraped forwards across the flat of the wall, twisting his body to get better pulling power and dragging a knee up and under his core, roaring as he fought the wind for her, his right arm a vice around her back, launching himself backwards. They flew upwards and crashed against the rear of the visitor information sign, Ava like a rag doll in his arms once her weight shifted over the top of the wall. She landed on top of him, crying out and clutching him madly. Callanach cradled her head, whispering words of reassurance she would never hear over her cries and the storm.

It was minutes before she raised her head to look at him.

‘Do you need an ambulance?’ he asked.

Ava flexed both legs and ran her hand down her neck, tipping her head to one side then the other.

‘I’m okay,’ she decided.

‘You’re not okay. You’ve got a bloody death wish.’

Callanach took her by the shoulders and shook her. She looked at him, horrified, then her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed, shaking against his chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered into her hair. ‘You scared me. Come on, let me look at that gash on your face.’

Ava turned so he could wipe the worst of the blood away to inspect the injury beneath.

‘The cut on your cheek’s not too bad, but you’ve got a hell of a bump on your forehead. We should get you checked out for concussion. Can you walk?’

Ava nodded, rolling to her knees to get upright.

‘Slowly,’ he said. ‘Let me hold you.’