Yseult's counting on less time to think proving an advantage here, and so it does--she steps, he lifts, she springs up, arm stretched above her head before she catches the wall with the toe of a boot and slap of a palm and drops back down. It's over in a heartbeat and she's landed light as any cat and turned to eye the height of the crevice that needs exploding, trying to judge the reach of her leap.

"That should do," she says, though the slight cock of her chin invites him to weigh in. "A little higher, maybe."