Part 2: The Hand of the Silverback

A Leap of Faith in the Mist

The wind screamed through the valley, tearing leaves from the branches and throwing them into the air like green confetti. My small, fragile fingers hung suspended in the damp air, trembling. Below us lay hundreds of feet of empty space, hidden only by the swirling, white mountain fog.

My mother’s back leg slipped entirely off the branch. She was suspended now by only one arm, her muscles bulging as she fought gravity to keep us both alive. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps that mirrored my own frantic heartbeat.

“Reach, Kazi! Now!”

My father’s voice was no longer a roar of command; it was a plea. His huge, dark brown eyes locked onto mine, holding my gaze steady amidst the chaos. I could smell the rich, earthy scent of him—a scent that had always meant absolute safety.

I took a deep breath, tasted the cold mist on my tongue, and let go of my mother’s fur entirely with my right hand.

I lunged forward.

My tiny hand looked absurdly small against the backdrop of the wild mountain storm. For a terrifying, weightless second, I was falling. The wind rushed past my ears.

Then, a massive, warm, and leather-textured palm closed around me.

My father had me.

His grip was incredibly gentle for a giant who could snap a bamboo trunk with a single hand. With one smooth, powerful motion, he lifted me from the crumbling branch and tucked me securely against his broad chest.

“I have you,” his quiet rumble vibrated through my tiny bones.

Saving Keza

But we couldn’t celebrate yet. My mother was still hanging from the cracking branch, her strength rapidly fading. The bark was peeling away under her grip, wet and slick from the torrential downpour.

My father adjusted his hold on me, tucking me into the deep, dry pocket of his armpit where I could cling safely. Then, he leaned his massive frame over the edge of the stout trunk he was anchored to.

He extended his free arm down to my mother.

“Take my hand,” his eyes urged her.

Keza looked up, her face tight with strain. She knew she had only one chance. If she let go and missed, the fog would swallow her.

She braced herself, swung her body slightly to gain momentum, and released her grip on the broken branch.

The wood shattered completely the moment she let go, falling into the white void below.