Faithful Pebble
Part Thirty-Three
"What now?" she asked.
He turned back watching her edge towards the rope, caressing it in one hand, the other lifting the watch to provide light that the stars above could not give. She tugged the rope sharply.
"Gentle," he admonished walking up behind her. "Hopefully, it will hold."
She turned her head. Even through the fabric, the wanderer could see her mouth gape. Her hood bowed, inhaled and exhaled again. "What? You're not sure?"
He smiled knowing that she couldn't see it, hoped inwardly that she couldn't. He scratched his head. "Scared?" he teased.
And she, Iris, snorted and then looked away—no up, up and up at the seemingly unending well shaft and its ever eternal starlit sky. "W-what happens afterwards?" she asked quietly.
The rope began to shake in her hands and the wanderer steadied it wrapping green and brown and strong dark fingers around her own tattered digits. He let out a breath. "I don't know," he admitted. "What happens if you stay?"
She looked down and away.
"There is no future for you here," he countered. "There is a future up there. It may not be good or perfect, but still… it's something—"
"Yes," she interrupted. "I'm scared. What if—"
"I will help you. I will not leave you," he whispered looking at her intently.
Iris just sighed and let go of the rope. She stepped away from him, turned and stared. Even from under the drapery of her hood, he could feel the weight of her eyes consider him. She tilted her head. "Why?" she asked. "Why should I believe you?"
Proofing is still a bear. - Calla