Just don't think about it, Serena reminds herself with each step. Don't think about falling, don't think about the Giants and humans behind, don't think about whatever danger may lie ahead. She keeps her eyes on the ground directly before her feet, studying the tracks left by the Wolf instead of the steep drop to her right. Occasionally she sees hoof marks too, and it's encouraging knowing the Horse has passed this way as well.
If a huge horse can do this, she reasons, there's no reason I can't. Still, each step is an effort, forcing herself along the narrow path. Her calves ache already from the miles they've traveled since sunrise. She's sure she's never walked so far in one day in her entire life, and it's not long past midday. Despite the high sun, it feels as though the steady wind blowing down the mountain is sweeping right through her clothes. She's pulled her hands mostly inside the sleeves of the oversized shirt she's wearing– though not so far as to be hindered after Sir Edmund's warning to keep her hands free – but her right hand is numb as she trails it along the rough rock of the mountainside. She clenches her jaw to avoid shivering, just in case that would be enough to throw her off balance and tumbling to her doom.
Serena never considered herself to be afraid of heights before, but until now she's never had a reason to be. The towers of her home in Corsecant were all enclosed, and even the walls between the towers had crenelations along the walkways. She had always felt safe there, and now she can't help wishing for some of that security.
She shakes her head slightly and focuses on carefully placing each footstep. They've gone at this pace for at least half an hour, but the path never seems any shorter. Adan is somewhere in front of her, and on the rare occasions she looks ahead she's caught sight of his black fur, but mostly he keeps well ahead of them. She assumes he's testing the trail, but she wishes he would keep closer. She hasn't had much interaction with him, but he seems quite friendly at times— despite being a Wolf. Or perhaps it's because he's a talking Wolf and not a wild animal as the wolves of Corsecant, she muses.
The scuff of a boot behind her pulls her from her thoughts, reminding her of her other traveling companion. She imagines she can actually feel the ire of Sir Edmund against her back as he chafes at the slow pace. All morning he's pushed them to move faster, and, though she understands the urgency, she's struggled with his pace. And here on this daunting path, she knows she's not moving as quickly as the Wolf and soldier could move on their own. She hears what sounds like a sigh from behind her and clenches her jaw more tightly. Perhaps she could try to go a bit faster.
Serena places her next steps a bit quicker and, when the first few steps don't end in disaster, she decides that maybe she is able to move faster. She continues stepping quickly across the thin coating of snow while still leaning slightly toward the solid mountain to her left. Maybe this mountaineering business isn't so hard, she thinks, almost giddily. But those positive feelings don't last long.
As soon as her right foot lands on a patch of ice and slips off the precarious ledge into the open air, all thoughts of success are gone. In fact, every thought except the certainty of falling leaves her mind. She twists on her left foot, scrambling to catch herself on the rock wall. When that foot loses what little grip it had, though, she's certain she's done for. She throws her arms out in a final effort to grab anything in reach, and her right arm smacks against leather armor just as an arm wraps around her waist and snatches her out of the air.
Her breath leaves her with an 'oof' and the dark gray wool of Sir Edmund's shirt is suddenly all she can see. A second later, her shoulder blades slam into the rock wall. Her forehead connects with Edmund's shoulder a moment before the back of her head hits something that's much softer than rock. Her muscles clench and she can feel her heart racing even as she slides down enough for her feet to touch the solid ground. Tears prickle her eyes as she gasps in a shaky breath. She feels off-balance and dizzy even though she's no longer moving, and she closes her eyes tight.
It's not until Edmund shifts slightly that Serena considers their proximity. His arm is still locked around her, his hand wrapped in the loose fabric at her back. His other arm, she realizes, is between her head and the rock wall it should have impacted against. She can hear his ragged breaths near her ear, and the air around her face is much warmer with both of them breathing so close together. Her hands even feel slightly warmer now, tucked between his back and the pack he's carrying. She slowly pulls them free, though, and her arms fall to her sides.
Edmund rests his head beside hers for a moment longer, leaning his forehead on his arm. Then his sigh brushes the hairs that have come loose from her braid, tickling the side of her neck. She shivers as a chill runs up her spine, and his grip on her shirt loosens. The cold air surrounds her as soon as he backs up.
The return of the cold is almost worse than it was before, but she stays leaned against the frigid rock. Edmund stands up straighter, but his left arm still braced on the rock behind her head and his right hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he stares down at the sheer drop-off she almost became intimately familiar with. She shivers and backs her heels right up against the mountain– only then realizing Edmund's right boot is still positioned in front of her– and looks down the mountain. Some snow has been brushed off the path, but other than that there's no sign of what just transpired.
"Why do you walk on your toes?" Edmund questions suddenly. Serena, trying to force herself not to envision herself falling off a mountain, doesn't answer immediately. It's so abrupt, and Serena's mind stutters over deciphering Edmund's tone– not sharp or accusing, but curious perhaps– instead of really considering the question.
"What?" she finally replies. She turns her head, but he's far closer than she realized and she has to tilt her head back to look up at him. He scowls down at the ground for a moment, though, before explaining.
"When you walk," he says, glancing past her. Serena glances down the path as well, hoping for some epiphany to clear up what they're talking about, but looking ahead just reminds her that eventually they'll have to start moving again. She blinks hard, trying to clear that thought from her head as she turns her focus back to what he'd asked her.
"I don't know what–"
"You shift your weight forward," he interrupts, "onto the front of your feet." Serena looks down at her makeshift shoes with a frown. She wiggles her toes, feeling the restriction from the silk slippers she's still wearing inside the fur and leather. She can feel the blisters forming on the balls of her feet– so maybe he is right – but she hasn't the slightest idea why that would be relevant right now.
"Does it matter?" she asks, still confused about this whole conversation. Why are they discussing how she walks right now? She's not sure whether she's more irritated or embarrassed as she looks back up at Edmund. Instead of replying, though, he takes her wrists and pulls her slowly to face him on the narrow ledge.
"You lead with the front of your foot," he says slowly. Still holding her wrists, he demonstrates, lifting one foot and stepping on the toe. He looks up at her briefly, but Serena is still staring at his foot in confusion. Edmund lets go of one of her wrists and runs his hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck for a moment and glancing past her again.
"Which is fine," he continues, "If you're walking on a flat surface, or dancing, or whatever, but you can't–" He cuts himself off with a sigh and gestures to her feet. "There's not a lot of grip even with the cords. If you want to control your steps you need to lead with your heel." He picks up his foot again to demonstrate, this time setting his heel down first and using a sort of forward rolling motion to plant his foot. Serena squints at his boot, shifting her weight from the balls of her feet to the heels as she considers this.
"I didn't realize before, but then you got ahead of me," he adds with a shaky exhale. Serena continues to stare at his boots.
"I'm sorry," she breathes, ducking her head. She had been trying to move faster, but she'd just ended up making everything worse. If she'd felt useless before, she feels doubly so now. In fact, worse than useless– because now she was hindering them just by the way she walks.
"Don't be sorry," Edmund replies quietly. He reaches out and pats her awkwardly on the shoulder once, and then uses both hands to carefully turn her around. "Just fix it," he adds, "and let's keep going." He drops his hands from her shoulders, but he doesn't back away. She shifts her weight again, tracing along the path ahead with her eyes.
It doesn't look any less terrifying or difficult, but she can feel Edmund behind her, waiting for her to take the next step. Despite the pressing need to move on, he's letting her set the pace here. She realizes now that he probably wasn't chafing at her slower pace— at least not here on this precarious trail– and clearly rushing wasn't a terribly great idea.
Shaking her head slightly, Serena inhales deeply and then takes a careful step forward. It takes a lot of focus to walk the way Edmund had demonstrated, and she hasn't paid so much attention to what her feet are doing since starting dance lessons more than a decade ago. Slowly, though, she starts to feel like she's getting it right.
"Good," Edmund says after a while. Serena can tell from his voice that he's still close behind her, but she feels a surge of pride anyway. And her steps do feel more solid walking this way. The muscles in her shoulders relax slightly as she continues, and a small smile grows into a grin, stretching her stiff, windburned cheeks for the first time all day.