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Raging Star Moira Young 19020K 2023-09-02

Meantih’s passed th’other end of the rope around his chest Another slipknot to secure hiirder I hand hily in his coat an starts to hitch along Up up up towards the oes

Easy now, no hurry, I tell hiot it in mind to run, he says

He reaches the vee of the neooden struts Now he’s gotta pick his way past ’em Gimme some play on the rope, he says

Usin the first strut to help hiirder My breath stalls as he in ’eoes It’s aard He places his feet with care I make sure the rope don’t hamper him

Then he’s done it He sleairder Once agin, he inches hisself along Along an up towards the centre of the bridge as I pay out the rope Unease pricks my skin Don’t listen to the roar of the river below Don’t think about the sharpness of the rocks He slides the blastpack froht, I says Go slow, Lugh, be careful

Would you hush, he says

A wolfdog howl shivers the air It’s Tracker It’s the signal

Sohts, he says

But the rope--

Douse the lights!

Don’t move, stay there, I order you! I drop the rope an rush to snatch the torches I shove ’erab the last one, as I turn to h’s okay, I see him reach out Reach to jam the blastpack into place

Reach

Lose his balance

An fall

I scrarab the rope With a rush, it snaps taut Reefed to full length by the weight of Lugh’s body, it catches on the vee of the struts

Lugh hangs in thin air, high above the river Held by nuthin but the rope around his chest In one hand, he clutches the fuse cord by its end The blastpack dangles far below hi it as fast as I can Nero swoops an screeches in a panic Shut up, I hiss

I clae myself in Reach down Grab hold of the rope To do what, I dunno The blood’s poundin in h stares up at s The rope creaks

Then we hear it Faint at first The beat of hoofs on the road Coles Metal That in neether Then they’re upon us I don’t dare breathe as, not five foot above s from it below As he twists An creaks One rider says sohs Two in The sounds of ’em start to fade As the road curves around the hill to the east, I git a clear sight of their backs

They ride well-grooleam They’re turned out neat, with short cropped hair Dressed head to toe in black Long black robes It’s the Tonton DeMalo’s e of nowhere What the hell’re they doin out here? They disappear around the bend

Tonton, I tell Lugh