your love is gonna drown.

Harlyn carefully slipped down from ledge to ledge, trying to see if she could find his body, all while praying to the gods that she wouldn't find it mangled and broken far, far below her.  When finally she spotted him, her breath caught in her throat in what was nearly relief but for the immediate irritation with his nonchalant response.  She bit her lip in frustration at his candor.  What a fool!  Had he no idea the danger he was in?  The danger he'd so moronically pulled her into now?  "You're lucky to be wearing not dead right now," she replied in annoyance, still relieved in spite of her aggravation that she wouldn't be returning to Mordecai to tell him how she'd watched a wolf die that day.


The scent of blood seemed to hit them both at the same time.  She was still a couple of levels above him, so she couldn't exactly tell where it was he was bleeding.  She saw the flick of his tongue, though, and heard the comment he made.  She assumed it was likely his lip, or maybe his chin or teeth.  God forbid it was his tongue - maybe he'd bitten the smart ass off of it.  Harlyn regarded him coolly when he asked if she wanted to help him up now, her mind immediately snapping a no at him, though what slipped from her mouth was a bit different.

"If you follow that ledge along to the right to where it dead ends, you can climb straight up a few steps," the Cinderloch advised before turning to look back up, tracing her way back the way she'd come herself in order to make it the rest of the way back up, "I'll wait for you - you can follow me from there."