Near thecliff’s edge, Fibian sat crouched with Edward on hisshoulder.
“What’s goingon?” Cyrus asked.
“Look,” Fibian said, pointing north to a snow-capped ridge.
Cyrus searchedthe mountaintops. He spied a dark trail of smoke rising in the distance.
“The yeti wereright,” he whispered.
“We have foundour destination,” Fibian said, “Edward and I havediscovered a way down into the valley below, though the climb will be dangerous.”
“What aboutthe wolves?” Cyrus asked.
“They left notrace,” Fibian said, “The storm covered their tracks.”
After abreakfast of bread and water, the group trekked northeast around to themountain’s flank. There, the precipice gave way to a stagger-stepped cliff. Thecliff face deteriorated into a steep slide, ending in a wooded vale.
“Will you beall right with one hand?” Cyrus asked Fibian.
“I believeso,” Fibian said, removing his single glove, “Remember,keep your weight in your legs and at least three points of contact.”
Cyrus followedFibian down the narrow steps. Edward huddled insidethe folds of Fibian’s jacket. The going was slow. Fibian picked his way carefully down the craggy rock. Cyrusmirrored his footholds. A large cloud rolled in, shading the moon. Despite thecold, Cyrus began to sweat. Don’t look down, he told himself. Witheach step, he was one foothold further from the top, which meant he was onestep farther from turning back.
He caught sightof the ground below. His body began to tense. He knew if he did not master histhoughts, his fears would become reality.
“Master Cyrus,you are doing well?” Fibian called up.
Putting on hisbravest face, Cyrus nodded assurance. Something in Fibian’sexpression told Cyrus that his bravest face was little more than a ghost whitestare.
“Keep youreyes on the cliff.”
The windreturned, blowing large drifts of snow down onto the trio. Dark clouds sweptthe heavens. Cyrus could feel his hands growing numb. Keep moving, hetold himself.
CRACK!
Cyrus’ stonefoothold gave way.
“Fibian!”
He tried tohold on. His fingers lost all strength.
“Master Cyrus,climb!”
Cyrus slippedfrom the cliff, kicking through the air. Fibianreached out with his copper hand.
Snap!
He caughtCyrus’ collar.
“Hold on!” Edwardscreamed, from Fibian’s shoulder.
The froskman fought to cling to the ledge. The snow-coveredrocks provided little purchase. Fibian lost his grip.He leaped clear of the jagged rock, hoisting Cyrus along with him.
“Keep yourlimbs in,” the froskman shouted.
All three fellseveral stories, before landing on a steep, powdery slope. Cyrus’ knees shot upand punched him in the chin. Stunned, he began to tumble and roll down thehillside. He exhausted his strength struggling to fight the fall. His lanky limbsthrashed and twisted in their sockets, the crossbow jabbed at his back, and hiscanteen whipped around his neck. Frozen chunks of water, within the water skin,smacked him in the face and chest.
After muchtossing and spilling, his suffering came to a halt in a deep field of snow.Slowly, he moved and tested his body. He had split his chin and chipped a molar.
“Edward, Fibian?” Cyrus moaned.
He tried todredge himself from the powder.
“Beside you,”he heard Fibian reply.
“Is everyone allright?” Edward asked.
“Not sure,”Cyrus said.
The groundaround him was stained with blood.
“The cut is small,”Fibian said, gesturing to Cyrus’ jaw, “Use the snowto stop the bleeding.”
“Holy SeaZombie!” Edward gasped, crawling up Fibian’s arm.
Cyrus peeredabout. A fanged beast, half-covered in snow, lay at his feet. Cyrus kicked and clawedaway from the monster.
“It is dead,Master Cyrus,” Fibian assured him, “Frozen over.”
The froskman moved through the powder with feathery ease. Hebrushed much of the snow from the beast’s face.
“It is one ofthe wolves, I think,” he said, trying to uncover the creature further.
The wolflooked a third of the size of a yeti. Its gray fur was thick and shaggy, andits teeth serrated and bloody.
“Do you thinkit fell from the cliff?” Edward asked.
The wolf’seyes were crystal blue. Its brow was heavy and its leathery nose broad.
“Maybe,” Fibian said, uncovering the beast’s shoulder and chest.
The snowaround its heart was stained with blood.
“Or a yetishot it with that staff and threw it over.”
Cyrus lookedto Fibian, then began to search the surroundingvalley.
“Come,” Fibian said, rising to his feet, “There is nothing more forus here. We must push on.”
Cyrus tried todig the slush from the back of his clothing. Much clung to the fur within.Remarkably, neither he nor Fibian had lost their crossbowsslung across their backs, but Cyrus’ blade had disappeared, somewhere back inthe slope of white.
“Do we stillhave food and water?” Edward asked.
Cyrus had tostrain to see the spider on Fibian’s shoulder. Hisfriend blended perfectly with the caked-on snow.
“What’s leftis safe,” Cyrus replied, feeling the remains of the loaf against his chest.
The threepushed on into the valley, plowing through knee-deep powder. The going wasslow, but once beneath the trees, the snow became firm, their footing sure. Theycrossed large cat tracks overlapping small rabbit prints. Above, the wind madethe frozen trees groan. Mounds of snow, too much for their limbs, fell inclumps to the earth. The mountains began to close in on either side, forcingthe party northeast.
Snowy fieldsgave way to a snaking ravine. With each step, the passage twisted and grewtighter. Cyrus started to wonder if they had stumbled across an enemy trail.Stone steps cut into steep rock heightened his unease. His senses began totingle.
“Be on yourguard,” Fibian called from the lead.
Cyrus heardmovement behind them, somewhere down the winding gulch. Fibiansignaled silence. He motioned Cyrus forward. Together they scrambled up a steepgully. Creeping water clung frozen to the granite walls. Ahead, someone had cuthand-holds into the sheer rock face and had felled several trees across theravine, to form a sort of bridge-way.
A belly growl roaredat their heels, echoing up the hillside. Something whistled past Cyrus’ ear. Achesty snort came from the bridge ahead. As if punched, Fibianspun to face Cyrus. He stood staggering, clutching a shaft protruding from hisleft lung.
“Fibian!” Edward shouted, clinging to his shoulder.
“Get down,”the froskman wheezed, trying to un-shoulder his crossbowwith one hand.
Cyrus attemptedto hunker low behind a snowy ledge. The gully offered little protection. Hefumbled with his crossbow. He saw a spotty, gray head poke up from the bridge-way.
“Water klops!” he shouted.
Cyrus loadedhis weapon and returned fire. The arrow missed the creature, hitting the sideof the bridge. The water klops smiled a crooked grin,licking
