Mickey nodded, then turned to the others. ‘Guys!’ he shouted above the wind. ‘The weather’s worse than I expected. We’re going to make our descent quickly. We’ll go back down the same way we came, but this time we’ll rope up. The visibility’s poor, and this will keep us together as a group. You all have a carabiner on your harness. We’ll have five metres of rope between us. I’ll lead, Max will take the rear. Does everyone understand?’

Seven bedraggled heads nodded. Only one shook his head. Jordan. ‘I’m not roping up,’ he said.

‘Jordan, you have to,’ Mickey said.

‘You can’t make me,’ Jordan retorted. ‘You losers rope up if you want. I can get down by myself.’ He turned his back on them like a spoiled child.

‘Jordan, please … It’s for your own safety.’

‘Shut it.’

‘Mate …’ Mickey started to say, but Jordan stormed off and there was no time to argue with him. The weather was getting worse. Max was shivering. He wished Cory was here. The old climber exuded confidence and capability. Mickey? Not so much. Max noticed that Mickey’s hands were slow and awkward as he threaded a length of sturdy blue rope through their harnesses. It took five minutes. During this time, the temperature dropped noticeably. There was a sudden clap of thunder, very close. Mickey looked round again, rain dripping from his face. ‘Please tread carefully, everybody.’ He sounded exhausted.

Jordan went ahead, not roped up. He clearly had no desire to wait for the others. Mickey looked like he was going to have another go at persuading him, but lost his nerve at the last moment. He followed, and the line of roped-up teenagers snaked behind him. Max watched them disappear into the mist. He could only see one person ahead: Angus. The rope in front of him grew taut and he started his descent.

It was difficult to stay upright. The swirling wind lashed his body from all sides. It was almost like being punched. If Max hadn’t known he was on a ridge, he wouldn’t have been able to tell. Clouds obscured the sheer drop on either side. He had just started to walk along the ridge when there was another thunderclap. He felt it as much as heard it. The vibrations went straight through him and almost made him lose his footing. Seconds later, a fork of lightning hit the ridge, maybe fifty metres ahead. Momentarily he could see the others, silhouettes in the mist. They disappeared after a fraction of a second. Then all he could see was the mist again, and Angus treading gingerly ahead of him. Angus looked over his shoulder. It was hard to tell because of the rain, but Max thought he might be crying. He didn’t blame him. That lightning strike had been too close for comfort. ‘It’s okay!’ Max shouted. ‘We’ll be down before –’