Alice of the Jungle
The thing about climbing trees was this:
It was a whole lot easier going up than it was coming down.
Alice reflected on this as she hung from a branch, her boots dangling over thin air. The next branch was just a jump away, but she wasn't sure it was a jump she could make without breaking her neck.
She turned slowly until she was facing the trunk, switching a hand for the other on the branch above her, seeking a toehold with one foot. By some miracle, she managed to find one, trying to ignore her palms sweating as she sought for a decent handhold. She hadn't managed to find one before her grip slipped and then she was pinwheeling downward, twigs catching her clothes and her hair. Only sheer luck enabled her to grab the next branch on the way down, and she could swear she heard the tendons in her arms twang as they took her weight.
She hauled herself up on the branch, a little out of breath, and let her legs dangle over the side. It would have been easier if she had her knives. Sure, it'd hurt the tree, but at least they'd give her reliable hand- and foot-holds.
Leaning over a bit, she peered the twenty feet or so to the ground, hoping somebody would come by. Preferably with a ladder.
It was a tall tree. That was the only reason she'd climbed it. She'd been walking by and then there'd been this tree and the urge to climb it. Maybe she was getting bored, but at the top she'd had quite a nice view of the surrounding island. It was a good vantage point. She'd have to remember it. Maybe she could hold - hah - stake-outs.
If she ever got back down on the ground again, that was.
It was a whole lot easier going up than it was coming down.
Alice reflected on this as she hung from a branch, her boots dangling over thin air. The next branch was just a jump away, but she wasn't sure it was a jump she could make without breaking her neck.
She turned slowly until she was facing the trunk, switching a hand for the other on the branch above her, seeking a toehold with one foot. By some miracle, she managed to find one, trying to ignore her palms sweating as she sought for a decent handhold. She hadn't managed to find one before her grip slipped and then she was pinwheeling downward, twigs catching her clothes and her hair. Only sheer luck enabled her to grab the next branch on the way down, and she could swear she heard the tendons in her arms twang as they took her weight.
She hauled herself up on the branch, a little out of breath, and let her legs dangle over the side. It would have been easier if she had her knives. Sure, it'd hurt the tree, but at least they'd give her reliable hand- and foot-holds.
Leaning over a bit, she peered the twenty feet or so to the ground, hoping somebody would come by. Preferably with a ladder.
It was a tall tree. That was the only reason she'd climbed it. She'd been walking by and then there'd been this tree and the urge to climb it. Maybe she was getting bored, but at the top she'd had quite a nice view of the surrounding island. It was a good vantage point. She'd have to remember it. Maybe she could hold - hah - stake-outs.
If she ever got back down on the ground again, that was.