“Ready?” he asked, his voice a hushed whisper in her ear, as if any could be hiding in the mist, ready to expose them.
She shut the door behind them, offering a prayer that all would be well, before she tucked herself close.
“Yes,” she assured him, burrowing her head beneath his chin as he lifted her.
She had no qualms about wrapping her legs about his waist and clutching at him, trying to ensure that he was not solely responsible for bearing her weight with only his arms. It still brought a pinkness to her cheeks, but the clutch of fright she felt as the first thrust of his wings had them airborne drove away any distraction that might have accompanied such a position with her husband.
Her fingers gripped tightly to Grim’s collar as she hid her face as they drew higher. She had given this part much thought, the terror that still gripped her even now, safe though she was in Grim’s care. She did not doubt him, truly, but that did not stop the dizzying feeling through her head when she dared try to make out the world below, the rush of air about her cheeks, swirling through her hood unless she was very careful in the way she burrowed.
But she would give no voice of complaint. She had promised herself that before, and she meant it. There were no other options, and she would not make things more difficult for Grim by expressing her unease.
The mist obscured a great deal, hanging low and thick, forcing Grimult to go higher than perhaps he might have otherwise chosen. When they broke through the tops of the wood, the sun greeted them with sharp, warm rays that made her turn her head. It was... lovely, when the ground was obscured and it was just the clouds high over head, a dim haze about them, keeping them cocooned in a realm of beauty all their own. It was not right that she should feel frightened. Grimult had told her that, had reminded her that it was as much her birthright as it was his, to travel through the air.
If it was like this, with no blur of a world below, but peaceful and calm as this was...
Maybe she could believe him.
Perhaps she would fly faster, and Grimult would catch her. And they would go for a while just as they were, simply for the sake of being together. But there would be no knot of dread in her, worried if something should happen and she should plummet, for her own wings would catch her as they parted, bringing them both back to safety.
Grimult wheedled his chin into the confines of her hood, and she belatedly realised he was attempting to find her ear, and she inclined her head, the better to hear him. “We will make a flyer of you yet,” he promised, and she took a deep breath, nodding.
She decided that meant her grip on him was a little too firm, a little too desperate, and she forced herself to loosen it slightly. She would cause trouble if she locked her muscles too completely and then expected to be helpful with their camp later in the day, so with that in mind, she put greater pressure on her left arm and relaxed the right almost entirely.
The top of the Wall was suddenly in view, black and imposing even cloaked as it was at the base. It was thicker than she had imagined, the top bearing pointed spires that more resembled spears than anything decorative, ensuring that there would be no gentle means for any who dared attempt to cross.
She grew startled when Grimult was suddenly bringing them lower, her arms tightening once more when the position was such that she was certain he intended to break their legs as they passed, and she closed her eyes, wanting to yelp, wanting to ask what he could possibly be thinking.
When suddenly the rush about her ears stopped, and she realised he had landed.
It took a considerable amount of will, but she managed to open her eyes, but she seemed powerless to coax her heart to stop beating so rapidly in her chest. “You might have said something,” Penryn managed to choke out.
“Focus is an integral part of flight,” Grimult intoned, leaning down so she could steady herself on her own, finding already that her tension had turned her legs to unstable things. She gripped one of the spires, the main peak of it taller than her, and she was grateful for its presence, fencing them in on either side lest she have visions of toppling over to the ground below from a single misstep.
The path between was fairly narrow, although she was certain it appeared all the more so because of the looming spikes on either side.
Grimult had already shed the pack and was laying out their supplies. They had already discussed the necessity of abandoning some, but she had not expected to do so here. “We could have done this on the other side,” Penryn suggested, feeling a strange urge to see what lay below but not daring to look, not when she feared what her stomach might do in the process.
“We could,” Grimult conceded. “But that would leave evidence that I am not sure we wish to spare. “If someone finds this, it means they are already crossing and have their own trespasses to account for.”
Penryn rubbed her hands against her cloak, nodding her head. Their cook-pot was placed upside down and tucked against the base of a spike, the blackness of it nearly invisible unless one knew to look. Everything else deemed too great a weight joined it, even one of the bedrolls. They had discussed each article previously, weighing its merits over the burden it would cause, and that was one she was strangely sorry to part with. It meant he would sleep all the nearer to her, of course,
