From the boy's mouth did the meager contents of his stomach fall. He does not blame the child, for how many times now had he felt his own gut pitch whenever his forepaw left the stone? The second of uncertainty when he could do nothing but reach forward.

The man rubs the child's back with his nose, attempting to chase away the aches that came with purging one's gut. Ruby eyes glance over the contents, a small grimace forming as he accounted for bile, plant matter, and wet earth.

The starving did many things to lessen the pain in their bodies. Small stones, sand, sticks, bone shards, and any variety of plant was consumed in such cases. As exhausting it was to vomit, it was for the best; non edible materials had a chance to impact the gastric system.

Setka resolved to feed the boy as soon as they as the reached a place that was warm and dry. He wouldn't be able to supervise the child as he scrounged for something to eat, but he would have to hope that a proper meal would help pass whatever remained in the boy's system.

After catching his breath, Setka collected the boy once more. The pup's shivering warranted them to continue, and yet the shivering was the only thing that assured the boy still clung to life. His body had not given in to the cold storm that escorted them.

Stay with me. The cry of his heart was directed to the boy. The plea of a healer as their options to stave away death became fewer and fewer. Setka could not linger on what else he might have been able to do, for he was here now, halfway up the cliff.

The only way out was up.

The path above the ledge was harder to route, and Setka found further progression difficult. The pouring rain did not assist the man in finding secure footholds and Setka could not easily backtrack along the wall. On more than one heart-stopping occasion did he have to make a "leap of faith" where he had to push himself beyond the limits of a comfortable reach. The muscles in his legs burned terribly despite the cold, and Setka endeavored not to grit his teeth.

Through his concern, fear, and exhaustion, Setka could feel the undeniable spark of anger within himself.

At one point in time this climb may of been a younger self's past time as his mother sent him away so that she could work. He had been born in a land of dry sands and stone heights. Nekhen even had a canyon within its borders. It had been his birthright to be able to persevere in the face of the cruel environment, and yet it was the very people he had wished to serve who have maimed him. This was a hurt that Setka knew he would never truly heal from. A wound that needed constant maintenance to keep from festering. To remind himself that his anger was futile at this point would be a Sisyphean task he endured the rest of his life.

During his ascent, Setka can feel the varying shifts of the cliff's slopes. Some paths were sheer and impossible, whilst others gave the man's tiring body a bit of reprieve. It is there that Setka can see a crack in the stone. A dark void that snaked up the stone. If it was the opening he had fallen from, it would take them to the plateau.

Setka maneuvered himself to stand by the crack in the wall. Where he stood it was narrow, but peering within he could see it widen. Water raced down the the angled stone, a small stream of rainwater having been made within the crevice.

Wedging his feet into the stone, Setka pushed against the water. The crevice chaffed his legs and the water spattered him with grit. Each step Setka fears how he may find his paws sliding deeper into the stone than he intended. How a broken leg would make this effort all for naught.

He can only thank the gods that the stone widened, allowing him more room to stand. The slope became kinder, and he could see the dark clouds rolling not so far above. The end was in sight.