Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 22 - ***REVISED***

A/N: You guys are so supportive and freaking amazing! Thank you again for your feedback! Based on that, I'm planning on posting another sometime tonight - edited or not! And tomorrow will be the last of the postings for Cimmerian Sunrise! (Again, edited or not) *Sniff, sniff* Hope you like it! Please let me keep hearing from you!

Breanne's eyes fluttered open, the pounding in her head making her want to close them again. She did.

Groaning, she closed her mouth, her lips scraping against the dirt on the precipice of the cliff as she did so. Slowly, Breanne rose to her hands and knees, sucking in deep breaths – then coughing.

Lifting an arm, she leaned back on her haunches, swiping the dust from her mouth and nose with the back of her hand. Streaks of bright red appeared across her beige gloves. Her tongue darted out to the side of her mouth, instantly tasting copper.

Her eyes shifted to a gnarled, twisted branch sticking out from the cliff. Peeling off her gloves and taking hold of it, she pulled herself to a standing position. Wobbling slightly, Breanne placed her other hand on the branch to steady herself, and then glanced downwards.

A droplet trailed down her thigh; Breanne's eyes fractionally widened. With care, she lifted the hem of her gown, inching it away from her feet, and instantly noticed a streak of red sliding down her right leg.

"No," she whispered, quickly placing a hand under her belly. "Nooo..." she cried, deep sobs racking her chest. Hunching over the branch, her body, sore and bruised, heaved from the force of agony swamping over her. "Please," she whispered.

Breanne inhaled deeply, endeavoring to calm herself. She had to believe that the babe was still safe and well – entertaining any other thought would make her want to finish the task someone else had begun. She must focus...make her way back up. Her eyes shifted to the canyon below; cold fear, a wave of lightheadedness and nausea had her clutching the twisted limb frantically, lest she should fall. It was a dizzying distance to the valley floor...jagged rocks awaiting her at the cliff's base. Breanne wrenched her gaze from the terrifying sight, and tried to focus solely on reaching the top. On making it to safety. She would not think of the certain death opening its jaws below. Eyes roving across the cliffside, she settled on using the branch as her first foothold, as leverage to bring her nearer the top. After several unsuccessful attempts at hoisting herself upward, and having to rest because of waves of vertigo and a thrumming headache, she was finally able to dig her fingers into the earth above the branch; the weak, aching muscles in her arms trembling under her weight as her body rose upward. Step by agonizing step, clawing her way up the ridges and rocks, Breanne climbed. Every sinew of her body screamed; and it was as if her unborn child tripled in weight with each foot she struggled to rise. Her recently recovered ankles, her ride-weary thighs and hips, the wrists she'd worn out sawing away at ropes, underwater no less – each portion of her anatomy had ample cause for complaint; and despite the surge of strength that came once again with fear for her life, they all threatened to give out on her entirely, and cursed her for pressing on.

At long last, her hand slapped across the edge of firm ground, sending a small puff of dust into her face. The tree root which had served as her last foothold splintered off below her feet, and she dangled there, her eyes widening in fear as the memory of what awaited her at the bottom rushed to her. Breanne closed her eyes, summoning strength; then after a few moments, she concentrated upon the cooperation of all her whinging joints and tendons, heaving herself to the solid, blessed, sturdy surface of earth. Still upon her hands and knees, gasps of exhaustion wheezing in dust, Breanne fearfully scanned her surroundings with darting eyes. There was no one. No one within grasp of her sight; though a ringing in her ears kept her from making any determination on that score. The limbs which had threatened mutiny during the whole of her climb, now refused another moment's service, collapsing. The only influence she could exert upon them was tilting to one side, so that she would not impact her child any more than necessary, and she could use her body's momentum to roll onto her back. From this position, she watched darkened spots and flashings of light swim through the blue sky, and held onto consciousness with her last thread of determination.