I curled the rope around my forearm and carried it over to the tree Wayne had used. It took fifteen minutes too long—losing more time, more daylight—but I finished the pulley system, and tossed the end of the line down to Mallow. Three minutes later, the rope tugged twice. A signal, I presumed. I started to lift him up. 

One breath, one tick. Two breaths, another tick. 

The forest was still alive, still hungry for blood. 

I used my fear to fuel my strength, and I pulled and heaved and pulled again, until Mallow’s amber eyes met mine over the ledge. His gaze flickered to something behind me. He paled. I whipped around, anticipating the beast, and found nothing except the patch of golden flowers Wayne had fallen into earlier that day. Most were crushed now. A gilded pile of mud. Maybe they’d been the last thing Mallow had seen before falling underground. Maybe he thought he’d never see aboveground again. 

A loud tick shocked my senses. It must have startled Mallow, too, because he zoned in on me, his chin tilting to the side. I understood.

Moving fast, I gave the pulley one last yank to bring him up as far as possible. He appeared, elbows-up. The rest of the way, he’d have to climb. 

His good hand stretched for the marsh. Before he could use his bad hand, I grabbed his wrist and brought him in close. He latched onto my clothes for support. With startling realization, it occurred to me that he could leverage my weight against me; pull himself up while throwing me over his shoulder; toss me into the cave, leave me there for the plants to devour. It’d certainly be easier to navigate the forest alone. Instead, Mallow took his time climbing onto the edge, so careful he risked gravity dragging him back into the earth.

When his elbow slipped, almost causing him to fall, I sucked in a breath, leaned over the ridge, and grabbed his belt, where it tightened against his lower back. I yanked. 
My momentum pulled him up fast and hard. We tumbled over each other. Wet, musky cave and body heat. My back hit the ground with a soft plunk, his forearms on either side of me. His nose met mine, his black hair wisping about his face. His wide, golden eyes like suns spiraling my vision. 

I parted my lips to speak. His pressed two fingers down on my lips. Shook his head. 
No talking.

He silently mouthed, “Thank you,” and then rolled off of me. I sat up. We stared at each other, free of the cave’s dark depths.

The forest went tick, tick, tick.