Extend the Story - Add a Room

You take a deep breath, lying your walking stick on the ground. You'll need both hands to scramble up the hillside, as walking upright would be inadvisable with the limp you have from your ankle. You squint through the darkness, trying to distinguish the best route for your climb.

There will be no easy way, and you know it. You are thankful, for once, for the slight build that had always been such a disadvantage in the rough games the few other boys who lived within a reasonable travel distance, for your body is light enough for you to lift it up onto one of the taller rocks with your arms alone, not having to push off the ground with your legs.

Dragging yourself to the top of the first boulder, you are pleased to note that there are few other rocks of that size on the hillside, and so you should be able to draw yourself up without too much trouble. More importantly, you see no crevasses you might have to try to leap. Landing even slightly poorly could be crippling on an already injured ankle.

Crawling forward on your hands and knees, you traverse the hillside, slowly making your way to the top. You're not sure how the trip down will go, given that you'll probably have to jump down off the boulder you climbed up, but at least your walking stick will be there at the bottom to help you rise. When you reach the top of the hill, you won't have that luxury.

You begin to dread the trip down the hill even without the final drop. You've never liked descending hills on all fours; something about the sensation of descending head-first is inherently disturbing to you. You shake your head, trying to clear the upsetting thoughts from your mind. It's not doing much good, but you're willing to try.

Finally, you reach the top. There is one boulder on top the hill that you can use to help you rise, and you grasp its side as support as you raise yourself to your feet. You lean on the rock, taking the weight from your injured leg. In doing so, you laugh at yourself. What would Severin say to you reacting so strongly to a sprained ankle? Doubtless he would berate you for it, say that you might as well have been his sister, not his brother. At one time you would have punched him for that, just to prove him wrong. Now, you're not so sure. Just having him around, however degrading he might behave, would be a comfort.

The view from the top of the hill is less than spectacular in the dark. You cannot see far enough to determine much, other than that there is indeed a clearing off to one side. It looks like there might be a lake, as the trees end abruptly, but you see no smoke or other sign of human habitation. Unwilling to crawl head-first downhill through the dark, you consider spending the night atop the hill. If nothing else, you would be more aware of any possible attack, and would be somewhat sheltered if you lay in the lee of the boulder.

Spend the night atop the hill, descend in the morning.