I never get to see the impact. But I feel as though my tactical sliding helped. At least, I hope.
Heat kisses my face and tickles my ears with crackling ambience; the rest of me is a choir of aches. My body lays flat against smooth rock. I suppose I've been sent to the Hells.
Nah, I'm alive. Dying there would've been too easy and pathetic.
When I try to breathe, my ribs grind glass. I blink with heavy, concussed eyes—though I feel far too lucid.
Sitting up is a herculean task. Everything hurts. Falling off a mountain will do that to you, I suppose.
Leara and Valeria are accounted for, at least. Honestly, an extremely impressive feat; managing to stay together while exploding off the side of a mountain.
"Finally," Valeria mutters. She crouches by a stone ring of fire, feeding it with resin-slicked twigs. The flames swell, licking up an iron smell and the sweetness of sap.
"It's only been a few minutes," Leara wheezily coughs out.
"Both of you are so fragile."
