“Right hand on that outcrop right there,” Warden says. “Left leg beside your right.”

Dawn hesitates.

“You got this,” Warden tells her. “You’re almost there. Just remember to breathe.”

Dawn remembers to breathe. She listens to Warden. They climb the chimney together. And when she reaches the top, he’s leaning down with his arm outstretched to pull her up the last couple of feet, and when Dawn gets to the top and out of that fucking chimney, she’s so messed up and so grateful to be alive that she squeals and actually laughs and then she actually kisses Warden, just, like, spontaneous, and it’s like an electric shock goes through her and she pulls back so suddenly she nearly falls back down the chimney—but Warden catches her.

“Whoa,” he says, laughing and holding her steady. “Easy there, killer. We’re not at the top yet.”

He doesn’t exactly look upset that she kissed him, though. Those green eyes are twinkling as he stares back at her, and he looks a little bit flushed himself, a little surprised and excited, and as they stand at the top of the chimney and wait for the others, Dawn wonders if Lucas saw her kiss Warden and if so, what he’s thinking, and then she decides to push the thought from her mind and just really not care.

There’s still a freaking mountain to climb after all.

The wind gets progressively stronger as they climb toward the summit. Eventually, the spine ends, and the Raven’s Claw widens and steepens to almost vertical, and it’s more chimneys and insane slopes and vertical views.

They take it slow, and Dawn and Warden work together, and Dawn doesn’t have any more freak-outs, and slowly, but surely, they climb that stupid mountain.

And then they get to the ledge.

It’s hard to be sure, from where the Pack is standing, but Dawn guesses they’re only about a hundred feet from the top of the mountain. On the other side of the ledge, she can see where the trail curls up around some loose rock and keeps climbing, steep but not terrible, totally doable. The ledge, though, is going to be a problem.

The ledge is like two feet wide. There’s a wall of rock on the right side, and lots of space on the left. Empty space.

Like, there’s a fifty-foot drop and then just more scree and snow sloping down steeply all the way down the north slope of the Raven’s Claw to that pretty blue lake in the middle of nowhere, the lake where even the helicopters will have to work hard to find you.

The wind is starting to howl now.

The ledge looks insane.

Christian’s staring from the guidebook to the trail and back again, and you can almost see the words OH SHIT written on his face.