Her body tumbled through the empty air. The camera crew collectively squeaked in horror. All which was set in motion must eventually cease, though. Her now skewed trajectory raced towards a stone outcropping on the canyon floor below. Though none could see her final moments of descent, the resultant crash which echoed through the cramped canyon conveyed more than words could.

​

"Holy.. Holy shit. Holy shit!" bellowed Tory. Terren and Kilgo leapt to their feet, scrambling as they looked for... something, anything.

​

"Phone! Terren, the fucking satphone!" Tory shouted, snapping into action. Grym commended that - it was as much as anyone could do in the moment. At least, almost anyone.

​

Grym's body moved before his mind. His camera dropped behind him, a sickening cracking noise trailing in his wake. That's not going to be cheap, some part of his mind idly observed.

​

"Grym! Wha - Jesus Christ! What the hell - " the rest of Tory's words were lost to the wind as Grym jetted himself forward into the canyon. His shoes sought purchase on the rock, but found little yielded unto them. This run would be suicidal at best for a skilled runner in terf cleets. It was madness for an untrained cameraman in worn running shoes.

​

Yet, he bound forward. At least by his measure. To the crew above it practically seemed as if Grym ran in place and the world faltered and transformed itself to get out of his way. Though his shoes couldn't grip the stone, the fractional adjustments of his weights and inhuman speed made up for their transgressions.

​

Remember to breathe heavily. Falter where you can. Allow mistakes to be made. Yet, he did no such thing. Despite his careful planning and personal doctrine, his heart ushered him forward. There was no telling if Kayce was bleeding out below.

​

In what seemed no time at all Grym reached the crux of the canyon. He too performed a hitch into the conjoined space between canyons. It was with no small sense of admiration he moved his body exactly as Kayce had. Rare that I couldn't have done it better myself.

​

The wind itself made way for him as he pushed off the overhanging stalagmite. Breezing past it, his feet barely kissed the glimmering face of the crystal monolith. He passed under the overhanging rock ledge with all the grace employed by falcon navigating a cloudless sky.

​

Where Kayce had faltered though, Grym flew. To him, this was all in something like a slow stasis. He felt a small eternity rise and fall back into the recesses of time as his eyes delicately picked his route through the rock window. Rather than balling himself as Kayce had, he morphed his body into something akin to a diving pose and he glided hands first through the narrow opening in the stone and descended into the depths of the canyon.

​

He saw Kayce below. A pool of midnight crimson blood grew slowly against the stone floor, seeping softly around imperfections in the surface. Grym effortlessly let his feet skid against the sloping side of the canyon to slow himself, edgerunning to the bottom of the crevice.

​

He wasted no time. His hands tore off strips of his shirt with effortless strength, then deftly tied the cloth into neat bandages around her lacerated legs and midriff. Within a matter of minutes the bloodflow had been damned up and ceased.

​

"Sorry I didn't make it sooner," Grym uttered to the empty darkness.

​

Kayce's eyes flickered. "Grym - wha.. how the.. fu.. - " her sentence was never finished as her body once again succame to its numerous fresh wounds. Likely, she would imagine this to be some strange dream created by the flickering of a wounded mind.

​

Grym sighed softly in the dank depths of the canyon. It was, of course, better that way. He took one last long look at Kayce as she lie motionless in the dark underbelly of the earth. He was certain she was stable. Trauma teams would be able to retrieve her soon.

​

With that, he began to clamber and maneuver his way onward, towards the surface far away from his former companions.

​

I really thought she might be it. He goaded himself for such a foolish thought, though she had been magnificent. Oh, well. I'll get my race someday. Until then - farewell, Kayce.