Four surviving volunteers scrambled over the broken ridge while Juna spread her Wings above them.
Two hauled a wounded spearman while the others propped up a man bleeding through the fingers clamped over his ribs. Hajin stretched his chain overhead as the apex thrashed below the cliff and their feet skidded across the loose stone.
One bearer slapped a hand onto the jutting rock before his injured friend slid any farther down.
"Two punctures," he gasped, crushing his friend's shoulder against his chest, "the lower path went when the ridge fell, and he can't take another climb!"
"Then he doesn't climb," Hajin barked, jabbing a finger at the guarded trail beneath the second ditch.
"Tents are two hundred paces down that slope, so keep his chest upright, let the bearers meet you, and let them take the damn weight."
