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“Hmm, well, that’s… troubling,” Loop mumbles, squinting their eyes at the pair’s map.
Now that the two of them had left the party to travel to Ka Bue (Loop on Odile’s invitation, of course), Loop had taken on de facto navigational duties; even years removed from having to navigate for their own party, Odile thinks, they retain a certain amount of skill.
At the same time… there were moments where she was left with little more than concern. “What seems to be the matter, Loop?”
“Oh, it’s nothing major, really; just a teensy weensy little issue!” The way they say so inspires little confidence.
“Is that so.”
“Well. It appears… the only path forward is by crossing a suspension bridge over a ravine.”
Odile nearly faints on the spot. “The only path?!”
“Unfortunately, while there is an alternative… it would involve a lot of mountainous terrain we don’t have the gear for, I’m afraid.”
“Mm. I see.” Right now, to escape this situation, Odile would navigate any mountain. …Though that would involve heights too, wouldn’t it. “So there’s no way around the steep heights.”
“I’m… afraid not. You do have another few miles to steel yourself, though!”
Oh, joy upon joys.
~
When the two reach the bridge, it appears even more rickety than Odile had feared. “…There is no possible way that can be safe, Loop.”
“The guidebook assures me of its safety, Madame Odile. Unless you’d like to watch me cross first?”
The idea of watching anyone cross that bridge is enough to send her stomach flipping. “No. No, that will be okay, Loop.”
“Hmm. Alright, then. Instead, you take my hand and close your eyes. I’ll just lead you!”
“And if I miss a plank?!”
“We’ll go very slowly, I promise,” Loop reassures. Or attempts to, anyhow. How pathetic, to need reassurance like this five decades into her own life.
Finally, reluctantly, Odile gives in, taking the star’s hand. It’s warm. “…Okay. The faster this is finished, the better.”
The first few steps they take, Odile squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to let even a flash of light in. After she stumbles, though, her legs buckling beneath her like a fawn, she reluctantly opens them, stares forward at the back of Loop’s head. For once, she’s grateful for their light; she can follow it like a moth, drawn to its power to blot out the void below. She still feels like she’s going to fall any minute now, like she is falling, but… it feels difficult to lose your way, following a guiding star. Perhaps this is what the followers of the Universe were after, she thinks. Perhaps all it takes is someone to help you avoid staring into the void.