She was normal, healthy, human.
She emerged from the tent, stretching her arms over her head. Her entire body was sore from hiking. All the men were gathered at the base of the cliff, watching Hudson begin his ascent. He had a harness strapped with ropes and gear. Although he looked confident, and he was obviously an experienced climber, her stomach clenched with unease. The rock face loomed as high as the skyscrapers in Baghdad.
In the middle of camp, Yelda was making tea with her granddaughter. Layah accepted a cup and sipped it nervously. The Yazidis didn’t speak Arabic, the universal language of the region.
“How are you?” she asked them in Kurdish.
Hanna said she was well. Yelda smiled and repeated the sentiment. After they exchanged pleasantries, Yelda held Layah’s hand and said a prayer of gratitude. She asked the spirits to watch over Layah’s husband.
Layah shook her head. “No husband.”
“No?”
“He died.”
She patted Layah’s hand in sympathy.
“My grandfather died,” Hanna said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Wife?” Yelda asked, pointing at Hudson. “No wife?”
Layah pretended not to follow.
“You will marry him,” Yelda said. “At the end of this journey.”
Hanna nodded at this prediction. “She sees the future.”
“What does she see for you?” Layah asked.
The girl glanced at Ashur, who was standing with his cousins. Then she looked down at her tea, cheeks flushed.
Layah wondered if Hanna had a crush on him. Ashur hadn’t paid her much attention. He was more interested in guns than girls. Perhaps that would change when they were free again. She hoped he would give up on his quest for vengeance.
Yelda made a scolding remark, indicating that she did not see Ashur in the girl’s future. Yazidis weren’t allowed to marry outsiders, or even speak with them under most circumstances. Although Yelda had happily suggested a match between Layah and Hudson, a foreigner, the option wasn’t open to her granddaughter.
Layah studied her nephew from the girl’s perspective. He was handsome, even with that perpetual scowl. He had her brother’s strong features, softened by youth and thick eyelashes. To Hanna, Ashur might seem forbidden and mysterious. Ashur, in turn, thought all Yazidis were backward and inferior.
The grandmother had nothing to worry about.
After a light breakfast of tea and powdered eggs, Layah brushed her teeth and washed her face in the snow. She’d given everyone a tiny tube of toothpaste and a bar of hotel soap at the start of the journey, but they’d had few opportunities to wash. If she wasn’t sharing intimate space with Hudson, she might not have bothered.
By the time she joined the men, Hudson was halfway up the cliff. Although he made it look easy, she knew it wasn’t. Every five meters or so he hammered a piece of gear into the rock, anchoring himself in place. Then he rested with his hands cupped over his mouth. The rock face was mostly smooth and free of snow, but it was a blustery morning. Without gloves, his fingertips must be frozen.
Near the top of the cliff, there was a difficult spot, with no convenient ledges or handholds. Hudson had to brace his fingers inside a crack in the wall and use that for leverage. Layah didn’t take a full breath until he reached the summit.
When he pulled himself over the edge, cheers rang out in three or four different languages. She hugged Ashur, who frowned and pushed her away. She didn’t take offense. She’d grown accustomed to his rebuffs.
“How are we going to follow him?” she asked, in awe of Hudson’s feat.
“He will come back down to show us what to do,” Ashur said.
Hudson hammered more anchors at the top of the cliff. Then he rappelled down the rock face the same way he’d rappelled into the crevasse, with swift efficiency. When he reached the ground, he gestured for her to join him. He took a device out of his pack to show the group. “This is a belay. It will catch the rope if someone falls.”
He demonstrated the technique, while Layah translated. He picked Nadir, the heaviest man, to stand below and belay.
“We’re using the fixed line to climb.” He pointed to the rope he’d anchored to the cliff. “It’s faster and safer. The safety line is just for backup. If someone can’t make it on their own, the men on the ground can pull them up.”
She repeated this information to the others.
“I’ll climb first to show you what to do,” Hudson told her. “As soon as I’m finished, you can start. I want the women to go before the men. I’ll come back down to belay Nadir at the end.”
“Who will belay you?” she asked.
“No one.”
She nodded, accepting this risky decision. He started his second ascent and wasted no time getting to the summit. She committed every move he made to memory. When he was safe, he removed the belay rope and tossed it down the cliff. Then it was her turn.
She wanted to go first. If she climbed the rock wall without falling or needing help from the men, the other women were more likely to follow suit.
She attached the rope to her harness and started climbing. It was harder than she’d expected. Her body was sore from several days of travel, and the altitude didn’t help. She had to rest on the second ledge to catch her breath. Then she continued to climb, using her leg muscles to walk up the wall. She focused on making steady progress. Step by step, hand over hand. Before she knew it, she was halfway there.
Then she made the grave mistake of looking down. It was a sickening distance. One of her boots slipped and she almost lost her balance. Her stomach dropped about twenty meters. She clung to the fixed line, scrambling for a better foothold.
Hudson shouted down
