The torchlight as it bobs into view is finally a relief from all that numbing darkness: seeing Clarisse’s face cast in flickering red and oranges, bringing comforting illumination with her. Astrid’s expression, tight with fear, relaxes slightly at being able to see again, although her dirt-smeared face is still strained with pain.

“Don’t think so. I’m good at tucking and rolling in a fall. But—”

But she’s favouring one ankle, and evidently can’t stand on it. Sprained or outright fractured, she can’t tell the difference yet. Her elbow is scraped bloody, but that’s the lesser problem.

She’s stuck a little ways below Clarisse, down a steep stretch of rock with few handholds. She stretches up a palm, trying to see how far she can reach above her. Clarisse is taller than her, more muscled than her. “Can you haul me up?”