In all the stories Rial knew, in all the tales the village elders told and in all the fables their teachers taught, a hero who tossed themselves down a steep drop awoke hours later, dazed but hearty, to find themselves lying safely away from whatever danger they had fled.

That is not what happened.

The sheer side down which they tumbled had, to Rial's mind, an unbelievable number of out-jutting crags and clawing branches, sharp edges and coarse surfaces stabbing and tearing at their sides as they half-slid, half-fell towards the rocks below. What had seemed an unintimidating drop when seen from above was suddenly a never-ending, bottomless descent into certain death. Rial prayed to the gami as he was bounced and rolled by the whims of gravity.

The fall ended with a heavy thud, a stop that cracked Rial's temple against the hard ground and made the world spin. Somewhere nearby Gryrne groaned.

An angry barking sound snapped Rial back to reality. He opened his eyes to see several khiladri staring down from the lip of the plateau from where they had jumped, barking and whining in turn. They were trying to follow, but the height was too much for them. They would reach their front paws down as far as possible, but find themselves scrabbling backwards with all four legs before they could summon the courage to slide down.

The sight would have been comical had the sounds of the other khiladri fighting with their comrades not filtered down as well.

Gryrne was lying close to the water's edge, his arm clearly broken. Rial drew a sharp inward breath as he looked at it, bent back to the point that the back of the hand practically touched the shoulder. Rial did not know how he would treat it.

The barks and whines were slowly becoming howls, and Rial had no doubt that the khiladri would eventually find a way down. They had to move, now.

Rial strained to lift Gryne over his shoulders as he had seen Shaleigh do with Tomasu, made all the more difficult by the cries of pain from the wounded man, and quickly headed upwards along the stream. He found his sword, now without its crimson sheath, lying a short distance away from where they had fallen. He tied it to his belt using a torn strip of cloth.

The crevice was so narrow that there was little dry land, and Rial found himself slipping on wet stones underfoot and wading through bitterly cold water. Pain shot through his feet at the chill before they thankfully went numb. The sides remained steep and impassable, to his relief and the frustration of the gradually lessening group of khiladri that followed above.

As they climbed Gryrne's groans grew louder but he did not wake from whatever pained stupor he had fallen into. Rial struggled to support his weight, a task that would have been difficult on an even surface, let alone on this unstable, slippery ground.

Darkness lay over the crevice like syrup, the light of the moon blocked by the steep sides, making every step a gamble. They fell several times, and always above them, peering down from over the lip of the high sides, violet eyes.

Rial carried Gryrne for what felt like an age and prayed for sunrise, but his prayers went unanswered. Instead, the sudden sound of tumbling dirt made him turn, and he groaned. Whatever gami inhabited this section of the stream, it seemed it had other plans.

A section of the wall on which the khiladri walked was collapsing in at the weight of the animals above, clumps of dirt and rock rolling down and into the stream below. It was the top layer that was crumbling, however, and the lower layers held firm. Rial stared as gradually, inevitably, a ramp formed for the animals to climb down.

"You have to go."

Rial hadn't realised Gryrne had regained consciousness.

"You have to... go..." groaned his friend, struggling to rise and push himself from Rial's shoulders.

"Stop! You're too badly hurt. Don't move!" pleaded Rial, as Gryrne forced himself free.

"You can't... move fast... with me..." wheezed Gryrne.

A single khiladri was pawing at the collapsed ridge, gradually building the courage to slide down. Two more of the creatures flanked it, framed by the starlight as they snarled down at their prey.

"No, I won't..." Rial didn't move.

Gryrne shoved him with a reserve of strength he shouldn't have had, wincing as his arm swung loosely. Only now could Rial see that his leg, too, was injured, perhaps broken.

"Go. You can get out there."

Rial turned to where Gryrne was looking.

It was the same sheer wall that they had been walking besides for hours now, except... Further up, on the opposite side of the gulley from the khiladri, another section had collapsed in on itself. The reason for the collapse was clear; a large tree, that must have stood rooted close to the edge for many years, had tumbled down into the crevice.

Some of its roots must have been firmly embedded, for instead of falling in completely it hung upside down, half its roots still fixed to the earth above. It could be climbed.

The khiladri fell, decision made for it when the dirt beneath its paws shifted. It slid rapidly down the side, jumping at the last moment to land lightly within the shallows. As it stood there, snarling and moving towards Rial and Gryrne, it was joined by its fellows. The red flecks of the water dappled its fur like blood.

"Go! Now!" Gryrne cried.

Rial felt tears welling in his eyes. He stepped forward, sword held ready. He would not run.

The first of the three went straight for him, leaping for Rial's throat in a blur. Rial managed to nick the side of the animal's muzzle, but not enough to change its momentum. He was pushed over, the damp rocks below stabbing into his back and winding him. The pain sent flashes of light across his vision.

A claw tore into his left shoulder and ripped down his arm, and teeth snapped at his face, biting into his nose as he tried to push the animal off. He felt his legs clawed too, but it was a dull, distant pain compared to the knowledge that he could not help Gryrne. He was too preoccupied with helping himself.

A powerful kick upwards flung the khiladri's lower body off Rial's front, though the foreclaws continued tearing into his flesh, and Rial sliced sideways and upwards with the sword, cutting into the animal's neck. It squealed and leapt off him, curling back around after a few steps to snarl defiantly.

Rial thrust himself to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs as he did so. A rage he had never felt before flooded through him; rage at these creatures, rage at his pain, rage for his fallen friends. He charged the creature, sword thrust out ahead.