Precious cargo trembles between his jaws. It is with great care that Setka carries him, but the boy cooperates by remaining placid. The coywolf's neck strains with the effort to keep his head upright, to keep the boy above him. Setka cannot look down or behind himself. He cannot crawl along the stone, lest he drag the child against jagged rocks. The rain weeps into crimson eyes, leaving the man to blink fiercely through the haze.

Setka's climb is at a snail's pace. To rush was to risk loosing what grip he had on the stone. Slipping would be catastrophic at this height. He used his rear legs for the hardest work, pushing himself up the stone cliff while his forepaw clawed at ledges and footholds to keep them teetering into open air.

It is an exhausting affair.

To reach the halfway mark was greater feat than the coywolf had imagined. He hauls the boy over the rim first, followed by his front half. When he lifts a rear leg to bring the rest of him onto the ledge, the paw he balanced on slipped. Setka's heart found a new home in his throat as he scrambled to drag that stray leg forward. His nails strained against the slick rock, and Setka loosens his grip on the boy. Allowing the pup to spill out from his jaws onto the stone. Getting a rear paw over the rim, he flopped forward onto his chest.

Setka had himself drenched in rainwater that pooled upon the stone. Finding his feet, the man scooted forward towards the boy.

Oh, I'm so sorry. Setka finds his words tumbling past his lips as he scoops the boy out of the puddle. Pressing up to the stone wall, Setka turned his back to the air and lowered his head down to keep the boy out of the cold wind. He couldn't leave the boy on the ledge like he initially planned; one surge of water would wash the child away. Setka did what he could to balance the boy on his forearm, trying to warm the boy, if only for the moment. They would need to climb again soon.