“It’s a sign of my mountaineering ability. The more icicles, the better guide I am.”
“You’re such a goofball. No one knows that, do they? They all think you’re big and strong and scary. You’re actually a total dork.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Easton breathed against her ear, a far better way of tickling her.
A hand slapping against the outside of their tent ended whatever might have happened next. At least this time, Ben didn’t stick his head in.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but it’s that time. The Veil won’t climb itself.”
Easton climbed to his feet. “It’s all right. I need to go check everyone before we leave camp anyway.”
“Remember you said probably.” As he left her tent, River called after him, “Don’t think I won’t put your foot fetish in the movie, Easton.”
• • •
The excitement in the air was palpable. They were going through the Veil today.
For once, Easton didn’t ask them to break camp. Instead, they were going to climb up to the Veil, go through, then come back down again, retracing their steps. They were high enough on the mountain that pauses to acclimate were necessary. Easton had said if the Veil went well, he’d decide if they would summit. The way to the top was through the Veil, and if they failed to successfully pull it off when more rested, no one was summiting, then coming back down through the Veil when exhausted.
Today was the day to prove to him that River’s team had what it took.
Knowing she was getting close to the summit helped River push through the increasingly difficult task of navigating through dangerous terrain. Even with the distraction of Easton in front of her, River found herself looking more and more to the highest point of the peak above them.
Summiting wasn’t a hope. Summiting would happen.
As they climbed, Easton would turn to check on the progress of the team. Each time his attention turned to her, a sexy smile would curve his lips. A dangerously distracting one that was literally capable of causing a woman to fall to her death.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she told him once. “It’s highly irresponsible. I could report you to your superiors.”
“I don’t have superiors,” Easton reminded her.
“I’ve met your sister. You definitely have superiors.”
“That’s still being decided. What am I doing?”
River snorted. “Oh, you know what you’re doing.”
Considering his low, sexy chuckle, Easton did know. Instead of arguing his innocence, he turned back to the climb. When they finally crested the ridge they’d been ascending for the past hour, River stood back to catch her breath.
It didn’t work. Not when what was in front of her took her breath away all over again.
“You wanted to know what the Veil was.” Easton stopped, gazing above them. “That is the Veil.”
Even from several hundred feet below, they could all see the billow of snow across the mountainside, funneling out of a steeply sloped canyon cutting through the landscape. The result was an undulating cloud of swirling snow covering the side of the mountain, like a bride’s wedding veil blowing in the wind. At first, River didn’t understand what she was looking at until she realized the walls of the canyon were made of deep-blue glacier ice. As if someone had stuck a knife in the glacier and dragged it through, the jagged wound had only cut deeper with every year of unceasing winds.
“River,” Bree murmured, catching her attention. They were filming her. Of course they were; that was their job. “Tell us what this feels like.”
Jaw dropped, River tried and failed to verbalize what she felt upon seeing the Veil for the first time. But she couldn’t find the words.
Ben stepped up next to her. “No one has figured out for sure how it formed, but they think it’s a matter of aerodynamics. The temperature of the ice inside the canyon is warmer than on the surface of the glacier. Pressure changes, wind speed. All that science crap turned it into a wind tunnel.”
“What he’s saying is it’s a tough climb to get through,” Easton added. “The wind’s always in your face, and it’s ridiculously strong.”
“That’s why so many people don’t try to summit Mount Veil. The safest way to the top is through the passage.” A low whistle escaped between Ben’s teeth. “You can’t see your hand in front of your face, and it cuts like a son of a bitch. I’ve been through more than most, but she always makes me pause and think: How bad do I really want this?”
Glancing over, River saw Easton watching her. “This is usually where people turn back,” he told her. “No judgment, no shame in changing your mind.”
“I can’t make a documentary about not climbing a mountain.” River turned back to watch the billows of snow gusting down the mountainside below them.
“It’s not always about work,” Easton reminded her.
“Says the man being paid to go through there.”
“I don’t have to be paid to climb. I’m lucky enough to get to work my dream job.”
Clapping a hand on Easton’s shoulder, Ben barked out a laugh. “Buddy, I’ve seen you stuck on the ground for a climbing season, and you’re a nightmare. You should be paying us to let you take us up here.”
They approached the Veil at an angle to avoid the worst of the swirling snow. As they reached the opening of the ice canyon, the shrieking of the wind had grown so loud that River couldn’t tell she had earplugs in. Easton turned to them, yelling to be heard.
“We’re going to have to tether off to this part. We’ve got a fixed line running through the entire Veil. Clip on and triple-check it. One person on each section of the fixed line. The last thing we want is too much weight on a single section. The stakes could pull free, and it’s steep in there.”
“Wait.” Like Easton, Bree had to raise her voice to be heard. “We should film this.”
“No, it’s too dangerous.” Easton shook his head. “The weather’s not going to get any better. Come on. We’re going.”
Maybe he’d waited until they reached the Veil to give them instructions on how to get through on purpose. Not that River tended to ignore his directions, but she had to admit she listened a lot closer now the ice canyon was in front of them.
The line they’d secured through the Veil started just above where they were gathered. Per Easton’s directions, they clipped onto the rope, then headed forward in single file. A properly fixed rope would hold them all, as long as an anchor was set between climbers. A simple enough rule to follow in normal visibility but one that would be more difficult in bad visibility. The climb was not without risk…one of which was an anchor pulling loose from too much weight and everyone on the line falling.