“Go back,” she mouthed, but it was too late.

The snowpack beneath them dropped away.

Chapter 13

   When Easton felt the snow give out beneath them both, instinct had him reaching for River as they both fell.

There was a moment when his stomach lurched, unready for the sudden drop. Then a painful jerk as the tie-off line did exactly what it was supposed to do: it caught him in midair. The breath was knocked from his lungs as their momentum slammed them into the side of the crevasse, his shoulder cracking painfully into a wall of ice.

River screamed once as they fell, but she didn’t panic. If she had, Easton might have dropped her. His hold around her was tenuous as they hung there, dangling over a crevasse they couldn’t see into. The fall had loosened his grip, and Easton could feel her slick waterproof jacket slipping.

“Tie off to the rope,” Easton panted. “River, now, before I lose you.”

River wasn’t panicking, but she wasn’t listening either. The cracking of ice beneath them was audible over even the wind, signifying there was a long, bad drop below. Fear had frozen her in place, one hand clinging to the rope and one arm gripped around his torso, as if she were holding him.

“River, I need you to listen to me. I have you. Is your carabiner broken?”

“No.”

“Let go of me and clip your tether off. I’ve got you, but I can’t hold you for long.”

“You’ll slip.”

She thought she was keeping him on the rope. For a moment, Easton’s heart swelled with sheer affection for her. She didn’t know he was tied off…how could she? It all happened so fast. As far as River knew, they were both dangling. But with both of their weight on the fixed line, Easton could feel it start to give. The fall must have weakened the integrity of the set stakes.

“River, you have to. On three, you’re going to trust me when I tell you to let me go. There’s a loop to clip off to right above your head. Do you see it?” She nodded. “Good. I’m tied off, and I’m not going to fall. One. Two. Three.”

The click of her carabiner onto the rope was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Good job,” he breathed in her ear. “Do you have your ax?”

“I dropped it in the fall.”

“It’s okay. I have two. Can you reach my belt?”

River nodded, doing as he asked.

“Now, I’m going to do something you’re not going to like, but I need you to climb up the rope first. Crampons into the wall, set the ice ax in but not too deep. Like climbing the waterfall, okay?”

“No big deal,” she mumbled.

“Exactly.” Easton kept his voice as calm as he could. “Listen to me, River. You climb, okay?”

“What about you?”

“River, just this once, trust me. Start climbing, I’m right behind you. When you get to the top, follow the rope back to the fixed line. Get out, okay? I’m right behind you.”

Easton needed her to climb, because she didn’t understand the whole fixed line was about to rip loose beneath their weight. When he pulled his second ice ax out of his belt, watching her start upward, Easton didn’t apologize.

Locketts never said things they didn’t mean.

She looked down at the crack of his ice ax burying into the crevasse wall, then River screamed his name when he unclipped from the rope.

Easton knew what he was good at, and—for lack of a better term—he knew what he was great at. He’d yet to meet a rock he couldn’t free-climb, and he’d done his fair share of frozen waterfalls in the recent years. But free soloing a sheer surface of ice required two axes carefully placed in the right spots. Easton had one. He couldn’t see higher than where he was currently at. Adrenaline had already robbed his arms of strength.

Even he didn’t know if he was capable of ascending in these conditions, but Easton wasn’t done. Not anywhere close.

His crampons dug into the surface, giving him purchase, but the wall was slick, the ice harder than he’d realized. The next time, he’d have to place the ax harder or in a better spot.

“Easton!”

“River, climb. I’m right behind you.”

He hoped. Fear was a part of this lifestyle. Pretending not to be afraid—or being reckless enough not to be afraid—didn’t make a mountaineer. Understanding the risks, feeling the fear, but continuing anyway. That was what made a mountaineer. And boy, was Easton scared. Scared for River, scared for the rest of the team if he fell. Scared for himself. Using that fear to drive himself, Easton kept moving, hoping the ax held as he found new grips for crampons and gloved fingers. Then he jerked the ax out of the wall, praying his holds would last for the moment he needed them to, swinging the ax above his head into the ice.

Swing. Move. Grip. Jerk out the ax. Swing. Move. Grip. There was comfort in the familiar pattern. Visibility was terrible, but this could be any other wall, any other climb.

Then he swung and the ax met nothing. Breathing a curse of dismay, he realized his balance was off. Then gloved hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him forward and back over the edge. He’d made it, and so had River.

She hadn’t left him. Still safely tied off, River crouched next to the crevasse. Never would Easton underestimate River’s strength, because she grabbed his jacket, dragging him and all Easton’s 220 pounds of muscles away from the edge.

Easton didn’t know if she was hurt, but they couldn’t stay in the Veil any longer. Shoving to his feet, he hauled her up to hers, pushing her to follow the tie-off line back to the fixed line. It was their path out of there. If she could walk, she could climb. But if she stopped walking, he’d get her out of there if he had to carry her.

Traveling through the rest of the Veil was a blur. Her jacket hood in front of him, River’s hand refusing to let go of him, as if she feared he’d be lost if she did. Her instincts were sound, because Easton wasn’t able to see any better than anyone else in this mess.

“Clip on!” she kept yelling at him, but Easton wasn’t going to do that. One slip and a compromised anchor was all it would take to leave her at the bottom of this mountain. One fall today was enough for both of them.

Ignoring River’s repeated requests, Easton pushed them on until finally, the brutal winds changed direction, signaling the fixed line had shifted direction. They emerged from the Veil, stumbling and exhausted. River dropped to her knees, either a fall or because her energy had finally run out. Without thinking, Easton hooked her around the waist, staggering several more meters until they were out of the down sweep of wind coming from the summit.