Tree Singer

eat more to recover.”
“I didn’t realize,” Mayten said, finally understanding why her friend always had such a big appetite but never gained weight. She eyed Cather in dismay. Grumpy Adven hadn’t even given her friend time to recuperate. No wonder she was tripping over roots. “Thank you. Thank you for healing me and for giving me your energy.”
Cather laughed, making her dimples dance. “That didn’t take much. A bump on the head is pretty basic and doesn’t take a lot of energy. There are more complicated types of healing, injuries I don’t know how to heal yet, that take almost everything a healer can give. Some injuries—and some diseases—are so bad no one can heal them, no matter how experienced the healer might be.”
Mayten was sure Cather was being modest. Her friend was an excellent student and her parents were very respected healers. She’d spent her entire life helping with healings.
“What about that peaceful feeling—”
“Whoa!” Hunter put out his hand, stopping Mayten before she walked right into him. Both she and Cather had been walking with their heads down, trying to keep the rain from their faces. They hadn’t noticed the men coming back towards them.
“We have to rope up,” said Hunter. “The trail narrows around the bend and the water is starting to wash parts of it away.”
Mayten looked around. The rain came down in sheets and water puddled on the trail. Anatolian looked miserable but continued slapping her legs with his wet tail.
Adven had already tied a rope around his waist. He let out four feet of rope and tied it around Tray. Mayten’s hands were stiff with cold. She wondered how he could even tie the rope. He did the same with Cather, then Mayten, roping Hunter last. Without saying a word, Adven turned and lead the way forward, Anatolian bounding ahead of him.
Mayten was surprised at how slippery the trail had become. The trail dirt was the consistency of mud that was both clingy and slippery. She focused on staying on her feet, rubbing her hands and tucking them under her arms in an attempt to stay warm. Conversation was impossible.
They rounded the bend and the trail began to narrow as Hunter had warned. They were single file now, four feet apart on the narrow cliff trail. The mountain rose steeply on one side of the trail and dropped just as abruptly off the far side. Rivulets washed down the hillside and swept across the trail, disappearing over the cliff.
This is why trained questers are needed. Questers were trained to handle these kinds of situations. Despite his grumpy attitude, Mayten felt a grudging respect for Adven. He’d kept them safe—so far.
The trail angled upward as the wind roared through the tops of the trees, sending pinecones crashing to the ground and driving needles and rain into their faces. Mayten found herself flinching when pinecones thudded nearby and walked with her arms over her head. This would not be an easy spot to try and heal someone.
She dared a quick look over the edge, spotting a stream far below that quickly turned into a rushing river.
Shouldn’t they be finding some sort of cover from the storm instead of slogging on through it? Even Anatolian looked miserable, walking with his head down, rain dripping from his sodden fur.
Mayten tightened her jaw. Maybe Adven wasn’t as knowledgeable as he acted. Why wouldn’t he let them stop? Why keep on moving when simply walking was becoming more and more dangerous?
She opened her mouth to call out to Adven. She would insist they stop—
Her body jerked forward just as Cather disappeared.

Chapter Thirteen
The rope jerked Mayten off her feet onto her rear and dragged her toward a gaping gash where the trail had once been. She kicked and dug with her hands and feet, trying to find something to brace against or grab hold of. Anatolian barked frantically, running back and forth on the narrow path. The dog had been trotting ahead of the group and was unable to get to her, looking as helpless as she felt.
She saw Tray clinging to the root of a tree that jutted out from the hillside across the gap from her, Adven’s arms tight around his waist. Then she felt Hunter grab her pack from behind and her slide forward stopped two feet from the gap. Cather’s weight pulled at Mayten, stealing her breath and hurting her ribs.
“Get Cather!” Mayten demanded. The rope was cutting her in two, but she didn’t dare move. Cather was the weight on that rope. She didn’t know how Hunter was still holding her, but she was grateful.
They had to get to Cather. Images of her friend—scared and possibly hurt—dangling over the chasm caused her heart to pound wildly. Not many people knew it, but Cather was afraid of heights. She must be petrified.
Slowly, Adven inched around Tray, who seemed to have a good grip on the tree root above him. Adven bent down to look over the rim of the collapsed path.
“Mayten, stand up,” he ordered. “Hunter, help her.”
Fear clenched at Mayten’s stomach. What if Hunter let go? Would she slide right over the edge after Cather, pulling everyone after her?
But she had to move. Had to help get Cather safe.
She felt Hunter’s hands move around her stomach. He gripped the rope around her waist and helped her get her legs under her. Slowly, she strained against the rope, forcing her knees to straighten until she was standing.
“Cather, give me your hand,” Adven shouted over the sound of the rain. He reached down as Hunter helped Mayten creep backward, tightening the rope. Rain pounded her head, her shoulders. Her boots slipped, then held, then slipped again.
Just when she thought they’d never get Cather back, a wool hat rose through the gap. Relief washed over Mayten. Cather’s hand waved in the air, then clutched at Adven’s wrist. Slow as a snail in winter, Cather’s shoulders rose into sight. The rope that had been around her waist had slipped