He wished he had a rope.
The downward climb was slow. Jonas was doing a good job of picking his way down, avoiding the slick lichen-covered rock for the crevices that allowed them to use hands and feet to move slowly down the mountain. But the footing was still treacherous with shale that could slide out from under your feet when least expected.
“Slow down a bit, Jonas,” he warned. Jonas didn’t reply, but he stopped. Looked around. Dace leaned against a boulder to catch her breath. She rubbed her calves to get rid of the cramps.
Paul met Jonas’s eyes. He nodded. Slower. They would need to go slower. Paul looked down the slope, estimating — guesstimating really — and decided it would take them most of the day to get to the tree line. And then what?
He was thirsty. Dace didn’t complain —
