The bending trees swallow all outside sound. There is only Wendy’s breath, so loud and ragged in her ears she can’t tell if Tiger Lily breathes at all. When they emerge at the tunnel’s far end, the cliff is there all at once, looming over them. It sharpens Wendy’s memory—craggy rock with tangled roots and twisted, stunted trees and bushes growing out of it at odd angles. She can see a few narrow ledges and plateaus from this vantage point, but the top of the cliff is hidden from view.

* * *

Jane keeps her mind on finding the next place to put her feet and hands. Her breath comes hard, and she’s sweating. Even though she can’t look down, she knows she’s making progress. She takes a moment to be proud even though her fingers ache, wanting to cramp. She has to keep climbing.

For a while, the pride is enough to allow her to trick herself into forgetting what she’s doing, how dangerous it is, and how far away the ground is. Then a terrible roar splits the air. Timothy whimpers, and Jane presses flat against the rock, waiting for the world to stop shaking. Dirt and stones bounce down around her. She squeezes her eyes shut, but she feels the grit settle, clinging to her hair and her skin. She’s never been much fussed about baths one way or the other, but now, the first thing she wants to do when they do finally get home is soak in the tub for so long her skin prunes.

When the trembling finally stops, she risks shifting her weight, trying to get a better look at how far she’s climbed. To Jane’s surprise, her feet find a small lip of stone, just deep enough to hold her. She almost laughs, able to lower her arms and ease the burning ache in her muscles. But the moment doesn’t last. Timothy needs her, and there’s still more cliff above her.

A small tree juts out almost perpendicular from the rock above her head. Her arms protest, like someone has poured hot lead beneath her skin, but she makes herself stretch up on her toes as tall as she can. Her ribs ache, her toes barely keeping contact with the rock, but she’s just able to grab the branch on her second try. Trusting it to hold her weight, Jane leans out from the cliff face until she can see Timothy.

He’s a bare smudge in the dark, miserably pressed against the stone. At least the wind has stopped for a moment, and the ground is no longer shaking.

“Climb up beside me,” she shouts. “There’s room for both of us and we can rest a bit.”