No one could ever be truly certain what they were standing on in there.

Low, shallow breaths didn’t bring the oxygen he needed to his lungs. For the first few minutes, Easton simply stood there, letting his body recover as best it could. Then he unclipped from the line and stepped aside. River was a fast climber, almost as fast as he was. Factoring in her standard pace plus whatever disorientation she must be experiencing, she was going to clip onto his section soon.

For a moment, Easton allowed himself to remember what it was like to kiss her that morning, to rest in his tent with her curled into his side. Easton hadn’t ever considered himself a lonely person. Loneliness was impossible when one always had Ash or Graham around. But it had been a long time—too long—since he’d wanted someone else to share his time with. Someone who loved something he loved too. Who lit up at the challenge of a tough ascent and who stuffed her cold nose against his throat, falling asleep without asking if he minded if she joined him.

With every word, sound, or soft pressure from her lips, River continued to blow him away.

Impatient to see her step out of the Veil, to see her reaction when one of the hardest parts of the climb was conquered, Easton shifted on his feet, arms braced over his chest.

River was a strong climber, the strongest in the group and more than capable of getting through the Veil. Like the rest of them, the going was slow, and she’d feel like she’d been buffeted around more than a little, but if she kept her head down and kept trudging through, it would be fine.

Only…it shouldn’t have taken her this long.

Easton stood next to the fixed line, watching the minuscule jumps and vibrations indicating someone was moving along it.

“Come on, whisky,” he muttered. “Where are you?”

Easton already knew in his gut something had happened, but the first visual of Jessie’s jacket made his heart drop down to his feet. With a curse, Easton darted down the line, clipping behind a confused Jessie.

“Did you see River?” he demanded over the wind.

“What? Where’s River?” Jessie yelled back.

Snarling in frustration, Easton plunged into the Veil. Going this way was easier in some senses and as difficult—if not more—in others. Instead of the wind driving him backward with every step, making him fight up a steep incline, the wind drove him forward, encouraging a quick and reckless descent that put him at risk for sprained ankles or a broken leg. Not rushing dangerously along the fixed line took all the willpower Easton had.

Yelling her name was pointless, and trying to see her was as pointless. Searching along the line for her, hoping against hope she was sitting in the snow taking a break, Easton moved as fast as he could safely climb.

His carabiner caught on the line, which was strange, but he pulled free, pressing on. He only saw Bree when he was almost on top of her. Bree’s steps had slowed as she struggled to get herself through the same winds pushing against Easton’s shoulders.

“River,” he yelled in her ear so she could hear him. “Have you seen her?” All he got in return was a confused look and shake of Bree’s head. Ben had been staying close to Bree, less than the full section of rope that he should have stayed. It didn’t fail to reach Easton’s attention there were three of them clipped to the same section of the line.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked, fighting to be heard over the screaming of the Veil.

“River’s unclipped. I couldn’t find her tether.”

Easton didn’t have to hear the curse that escaped Ben’s lips: the expression on the other guide’s face showed it all.

“Get Bree out of here,” Easton barked at the other mountaineer.

River’s carabiner must have broken, or she had the terrible misfortune of slipping when unclipping from one section of the line and reclipping to the next. He didn’t understand how that could even happen, with the double safety clip system they’d been using.

The path Easton had set was intended for his entirely right-handed clients to climb with their right hands on the rope to guide them. Only Ben was left-handed, but he would know to stay to the left. River wouldn’t cross the line.

He’d checked the carabiners though. He’d checked every single one because he knew how dangerous this part was. Working his way back, searching for any sign of River, something caused the carabiner he’d clipped to the line to catch. It was a little catch, then the carabiner pulled free. Easton wouldn’t have noticed it, except…that was twice.

At the same spot.

There was something on his line.

Feeling around the carabiner, Easton found something that shouldn’t have been there. Someone had tied something to his line, a place marker.

“Smart girl,” he breathed. “I don’t know what you’re doing but thank you.”

Rapidly pulling a longer length of rope from his pack, Easton tied it off to the fixed line. Then, because he didn’t only have one life he was in charge of up here, Easton did one of the absolute hardest things he’d ever done in his life.

He did nothing.

If Ben and Bree were still moving at the same pace, they were all still on this stretch of the line. Easton didn’t know what he’d find if he found River. But he knew any additional weight would be too much. So he waited, counting slowly in his head, mentally pacing his teammates as they moved through the Veil. As he waited, Easton felt himself grow calm. The gusts beating into his body didn’t matter. The windchill didn’t matter. The knowledge that all around him was a poorly mapped system of crevasses that would be covered in a thin layer of snow, ready to give beneath their feet. It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was River. And somewhere beyond him, River was out there.

The instant Easton’s brain told him Bree and Ben were off the line, he started a sweep downhill, plying out the rope behind him as he made increasingly wider arcing passes. Easton knew what was—and wasn’t—beneath him, and more than once, his muscles locked down on him when the snow beneath his boot crunched down too far. One wrong step could punch him through into emptiness.

One day, this would make a great story. In hindsight, maybe this whole ascent was one long first date.

Midthought, Easton’s blood went cold. There she was, on the ground, not moving.

“River.”

With a low snarl of her name, Easton dropped to his knees next to her. She was so still, at first he thought she was hurt. Sharp relief coursed through his veins when she turned and looked at him.

Then he understood what was happening, why her hands were pushing at him. The angle of her body was wrong, as if a sheet of snowpack beneath her had cracked. Her ax had dug in, but it was dug into the snow.