Round 43

The ancient stone groans beneath Merrin's weight as she clings to the beam over the chasm, her fingers straining against the rough-hewn rock. The sound of Jeane's fall still echoes in her ears, a fresh wave of terror coursing through her wiry frame. She cranes her neck, trying to peer into the darkness below, but sees only shadows and the faint glimmer of distant water.

"Jeane!" she cries out, her voice echoing off the tower walls. "Are you hurt? Talk to me!"

The catwalk beneath her boots creaks ominously, each protesting timber sending a fresh jolt of fear through her system. She shifts her grip, trying to redistribute the weight of her heavy pack—mace, crossbow, healing potions, rations, waterskins, torches, crowbar, lockpicks, rope—all the tools of their trade now a burden as she fights to maintain her precarious perch.

"Stay still!" she shouts downwards. "Don't move until Halie gets there!"

Merrin's dark eyes dart between the chasm below and the unstable structure stretching out before her. The thought of Jeane trapped, injured, or worse... She shakes her head, refusing to entertain the possibilities. Her halfling reflexes scream at her to abandon this madness, to find safer ground, but her loyalty to her friend overrides her survival instinct.

"Halie!" she calls back towards the entrance. "Be careful! The whole damn thing could come down!"

She feels the strain in her arms and shoulders mounting, knows she can't hold this position much longer. But abandoning Jeane isn't an option. Not now, not ever. She grits her teeth, readjusts her grip once more, and prepares to wait out this nightmare in progress.