They retraced their path through the dense undergrowth, their footsteps muffled by the moss-laden earth. After half an hour of steady trekking, they emerged at the edge of a deep ravine. There, suspended by thick ropes and creaking under the mountain wind, was the hanging bridge—narrow, weather-worn, and swaying ever so slightly.
With practiced ease, Jethru removed a rock, revealing a small metal mechanism hidden beneath. Since they could not be on the plateau every day, Jethru had purposely brought a few rocks there and hid the mechanism under.
"Did you make the bridge, Grandpa?" Gideon asked, his gaze fixed on the small pulley as Jethru began winding it. The gears, though rust-streaked, still gleamed faintly in the light that filtered through the trees.
Normally serious and reserved, Gideon only engaged in conversation when he was with his family or when something captured his interest.
