It didn't take very long to find a path up the cliff-face. It was a long one, yes, but not particularly difficult.
My eyes traced the narrow zigzagging road carved into the stone, curling upward like the strokes of some patient giant. It almost looked deliberate---too steady to be pure accident---but the years had worn away any certainty. Wind whistled through the cracks, carrying dust and pebbles away before they could gather. The stone told no story of whether men had walked it yesterday or centuries ago.
The cub, as always, was a few strides ahead of me.
Its six legs padded across the rock in a smooth, mechanical rhythm that almost hypnotized me if I stared too long. Tail flicking wildly. Carefree. Almost mocking.
The sight was… grounding. Comfort, in a strange way.
It hadn't seen the woman. Hadn't felt what I had felt when her gaze pinned me down like a dissected insect. If it had, it wouldn't have been wagging its tail like this. But perhaps things were better that way.
