"We need to get down there and take a look," I said, squinting at the lower ledge where the limestone shelf seemed to dive deep into the mountainside. I was already calculating the slope, wondering if I'd have to scramble down the jagged rock face on my backside.
Before I could even pick a path, I felt a sudden, cool strength wrap around me. Thalor swept me into his arms with a fluid motion that caught my breath in my throat.
"I'll take you down," he said, his voice a low, melodic vibration against my chest.
I didn't even have time to complain—or to tell him that my feet were perfectly capable of trekking—before he stepped off the edge. My stomach did a somersault as we plummeted, but there was no fear. It wasn't a fall; it was a controlled, graceful descent.
He didn't scramble or slip. He dived through the air like he was cutting through a current, and when he hit the soil underneath us, his legs landed with a powerful, solid thud.
He didn't even stagger.
