She’s a frail girl, I’ve noticed.

Her face is bleak like the deluge that drips off the sodden cusps of leaves, and yet her eyes have an acute alertness about them. Understated— but tenacious.

We had been walking for nearly half a day, upon reaching a ravine. It was fairly easy for me to straddle. I looked to {{user}} on the other side who couldn’t make the jump if she wanted to.

“Here— give me your hand, girl.”

I offer almost pitifully, hoping she’ll entrust her weight to the grasp of my glove.