The hooded figure crouched behind a jagged outcrop of stone, staring up at the shadowed cliff face. The air was damp and cold, filled with the faint hiss of wind that slid through the rocks like a whisper of warning.
Her fingers tightened on the frayed rope of spider silk that hung from the cliff above, glistening faintly under the thin light of the moon. Her breath fogged the air.
"Climb or not?" she murmured under her breath, biting her lip.
Her instincts screamed caution. If she climbed now, she might draw the attention of the monstrous spider that had left this silk behind—or worse, of the thieves guarding Bloodbeard's treasure vault. But if she didn't climb, she might never have another chance.
She hesitated for a heartbeat more, then exhaled sharply. "Climb," she whispered. "Why not climb? I've never been afraid of death."
