Page 655 of End Game

The second transition goes better than the first.

The third feels almost easy.

Not because it is. Because my hands no longer have to pause while my brain translates every step.

I know what comes next.

Ronan does too.

When Drake finally steps closer, he looks over the entire structure before asking Cami, “How does it feel?”

“Secure.”

“Specific.”

Cami thinks for a moment instead of giving him the first answer available. “Weight feels spread out. Nothing sharp. There's more pressure on one side, but it doesn't feel bad.”

She gestures as much as her position allows.

He turns toward us. “Why?”

“Body asymmetry,” Ronan says.

I study the way Cami is sitting inside the structure. “And she's rotating her hip again.”

“I am not.”

I look at her.

She looks down at herself. “Okay, maybe I am.”

The instructor nods. “Fix the rotation, not the rope.”

I adjust her position.

The pressure evens out almost immediately.

“Oh.”

I can't help smiling.

Cami's eyes meet mine, softening for just a second.

Then Ronan asks about her hand again, and we keep moving.

By the time we lower her completely, my hands are tired in a way I like—in a way that tells me they were used for art.

Cami rolls her shoulders while Ronan starts working the rope free.

“Scale of one to ten,” she asks, “how much better am I than Gerald?”

“Gerald doesn't complain,” Ronan says.

“Gerald also doesn't have circulation.”

“Technical advantage.”

“The dragon is better than you,” I tell her.