41
CODY
Cody climbs up the rock face, toward the topmost mountain peak, while the sun stripes the skin from her shoulders and cheeks.
Hand-over-hand, she climbs, finding sure footholds, up, up, up.
Her spine throbs, and she thinks of the cane. A lash for every slip. So she does not slip, not once. But Wolfe slips over and over beneath her, falling farther and farther behind.
“Wait up!” he says, but she ignores him. “I helped you catch that Night Beast!”
She grins at that.
Her cheeks are hot. Her fingertips are slick with sweat. Sometimes, she hangs on by one notch in the mossy stone, shoving her loose hand against her shirt to dry it. But her shirt is sopping wet, too. It clings to her body, and her leather bindings dig into her skin, cutting flesh. Up, up, up she goes.
Fa
