Alain nods, coiling up the rope as quickly as he can to throw it again. "Only knives," he agrees, as he takes aim, "and mine so short it would have to take it in the eye or nose to get it away."
His hands and arms are aching from the strain, even through the haze of adrenaline, and he has to take a moment to steady them, closing his eyes and forcing his body into compliance. At last, taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes and casts out the rope. The first throw falls short, and Alain curses under his breath, hurrying to draw it back in before the wolf (snapping and growling beneath them, its eyes luminous in the firelight) can take hold of the dangling end. He snatches it up just as the wolf lunges, its claws scrabbling at the tree; its teeth snap shut inches from where Alain's good leg hangs down, and he draws it back quickly.
The second throw is better-fated, but Alain's hands are growing slick with sweat. This branch, which seemed so high to climb or to pull Roland onto, suddenly seems very close to the ground. He wipes his hands on his leggings, tries to listen to Cort's voice in his mind telling him that such fear will do nothing to save them, and looks at Roland. "If you hold it now," he says, reaching over to retrieve the other end of the rope, "I can haul you up first." Unspoken, but there in his tone: if one of us must die, better it be me.
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His hands and arms are aching from the strain, even through the haze of adrenaline, and he has to take a moment to steady them, closing his eyes and forcing his body into compliance. At last, taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes and casts out the rope. The first throw falls short, and Alain curses under his breath, hurrying to draw it back in before the wolf (snapping and growling beneath them, its eyes luminous in the firelight) can take hold of the dangling end. He snatches it up just as the wolf lunges, its claws scrabbling at the tree; its teeth snap shut inches from where Alain's good leg hangs down, and he draws it back quickly.
The second throw is better-fated, but Alain's hands are growing slick with sweat. This branch, which seemed so high to climb or to pull Roland onto, suddenly seems very close to the ground. He wipes his hands on his leggings, tries to listen to Cort's voice in his mind telling him that such fear will do nothing to save them, and looks at Roland. "If you hold it now," he says, reaching over to retrieve the other end of the rope, "I can haul you up first." Unspoken, but there in his tone: if one of us must die, better it be me.