When Barett heard Lara's comforting words, he looked down. This time, his vision didn't blur with fear. The drop was still there—jagged cliffs framing the churning river below—but the terror no longer gripped him like a vice.
Then he realized he was no longer scared. His cousin's strong arms around him were like a warm and safe haven that melted his fears away, like a lifeline—warm, protective, and reassuring. The storm within him began to settle, fear melting into something quieter and softer—trust.
His gaze followed the current to a bend where the water raged, like the tempest in August, the same one he watched swirling beneath him when the chieftain held him up upside down.
His heart did not race, and his breath was calm and steady.
At the same time, at the hanging bridge, Bener lay flat across the creaking planks, his body half-draped over the missing plank where Barett fell and where Lara dived after.
