“Here!” Astrid shouts back, head craned up. She can’t see anything, the torch vanished, but she can hear Clarisse’s voice bouncing around somewhere up there and getting closer.
She tries to move and clamber back up to her feet, pushing herself up using the sides of the gulch, but her ankle crumples the moment she tries to put weight on it. Her fingers grope for her own leg. A tentative touch delivers a stab of pain, but she doesn’t feel wet blood, so that’s a good sign. Probably.
“Think I busted my leg,” she calls out, “but I’m not like… bleeding and there’s no bones, so I’m… okay? I think?”
She’s still stuck at the bottom here with no way up by herself, but it could be worse. She’s internally kicking herself for the carelessness. Growing up on a mountain, they always teach you to look where you’re stepping, to test the path, to never trust the ground beneath you because the snow could slough off and hide a deep crack in the stone. But she’d gotten bored in that endless dark, and stopped checking.
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She tries to move and clamber back up to her feet, pushing herself up using the sides of the gulch, but her ankle crumples the moment she tries to put weight on it. Her fingers grope for her own leg. A tentative touch delivers a stab of pain, but she doesn’t feel wet blood, so that’s a good sign. Probably.
“Think I busted my leg,” she calls out, “but I’m not like… bleeding and there’s no bones, so I’m… okay? I think?”
She’s still stuck at the bottom here with no way up by herself, but it could be worse. She’s internally kicking herself for the carelessness. Growing up on a mountain, they always teach you to look where you’re stepping, to test the path, to never trust the ground beneath you because the snow could slough off and hide a deep crack in the stone. But she’d gotten bored in that endless dark, and stopped checking.