My heart almost leapt out of my chest as I recognize the second figure as Blossom. Closer examination seemed to indicate that her hands were tied in front of her and a rope or strip of hide went between her and the leader. This was Mor-Dak-Sah, one of the hard liners who had promulgated the "curse of the tribe" narrative from the beginning. Just as suddenly the picture became clear. He was determined to carry out the sentence of death where nature, beasts and raging river had failed. He was taking Blossom to her death.

      The mountain was steep going from the side up to the top of the cliff, so the going was slow with many stops for breath. As he stopped for a moment, he remained facing forward, gazing up towards his destination. Blossom happened to turn to look back. I stepped out from behind a bush and waved. Her head jerked up and she quickly looked at him then back at me. I pointed to my rifle then to her to get down. But before she could react, he had started forward again. She nodded and followed. Shooting uphill or downhill is tricky because the trajectory changes with the steepness of the hill.  Even if she fell flat when I was ready, a hurried shot might fall short and hit her or I might overcompensate and shoot high, in which case he might wheel around and thrust her through with his spear before he fled or was shot. Both Blossom and I must recognize the moment at the same time.

      As they neared the top of the cliff, he stopped and faced her. They both said something to each other, but she was still directly between us as he began to untie her hands. The last loop peeled off of her wrist and she wheeled to run. He had anticipated this and swung his spear like a club and struck her on the upper arm, toppling her sideways toward the abyss.  She flattened herself on the ground but there was a lot of dry grass all along the slope. As the grass flattened and bent over beneath her weight it became a slick carpet so that she slid down and over the edge. Just as she went over, she grabbed a bush which bent over and hung on the very edge.

      My heart was frozen in terror and it took precious seconds before I could swing the gun back to shoot. As I had feared, I hurried the shot. He had stepped forward and raised his spear to poke her hands or face to make her plummet to her death, when the rifle slug hit his left arm which was out in front of him.  The spear went flying and he staggered back and tried to run. The slope, the slick surface, the shock of being struck by a bullet, upset his equilibrium and he fell and skidded towards the edge of the cliff.  Just before he went over, he twisted sideways and grabbed the base of a small pine tree that grew less than three feet from the edge. The rest of him went over and left him hanging with just his head and arm still above the edge.

      Screaming to Blossom to hold on, I ran up the hill, dropped my rifle and pack at the base of a tree as I rushed by, and stupidly threw myself down so I could reach over the edge and grab Blossom. I realized I was skidding too far, too fast and I spread my arms and legs like a lake fisherman flat on his face with the ice cracking all around him. The top of my foot, just behind the toes, caught the base of a small pine and my left hand was grabbing tufts of grass when I stopped with most of my face and my right shoulder over the edge.  Part of my face was on top of the roots of the bush that Blossom was clinging to.  I could feel tiny roots popping under my cheek. The bush would come loose very soon.

      Again, I screamed at Blossom to hold on and I reached over and grabbed her left arm right above the wrist. My fear of heights was putting me in full panic mode. Looking down five or six hundred feet from a very insecure position turned my stomach and I began to get dizzy and nauseated. Shutting my eyes and swallowing and fighting the panic, I knew I could never pull her up from this position. "Don't move or struggle!" I shouted. Any tug could send me over the edge. Carefully, I felt around up the slope with my left hand and found a rock. I gripped it and pulled and it started to slide. I immediately let go. Dropping a rock on Blossom could send us both over the edge. At least I was taking enough of her weight with her left arm that the bush had stopped popping roots out of the ground. Again, I felt around.  Even turning my head to the left might throw enough weight downhill to send us over. There was another rock, sharper and pointed, and as I tested it, it held firm. Using the anchors of the rock and the tree, I would try to pull Blossom up.

      The motion was like pulling a bowstring.  There was no way, lying flat on my stomach that I could lift her up and put her behind me.