Scaling The Vulcan Mountains

Olive gathered her strength and rose from the black sand. She dusted the grains off her body and hair the best she could and took in a deep breath. The hot air burned her nostrils and she let out a cough. She could still feel the chill of the ocean water against her skin even while standing in a place about 60 degrees hot. 

Olive looked around again and could not find her bag anywhere. She had thought her bag would be strapped to her back like it was before the drowning illusion. The bag required a lot of straps and lock-in, and would take her at least a minute to take it down from her back. But it was no longer on her, and it had disappeared altogether.

Even as worry for her mate and Guard ate at her, she knew she had to start moving. The dragon was waiting for her and she couldn't show any weakness. Her mate and Guard would find their way. They'd be fine.

And so the Firewolf began her trek towards the looming black mountains. Waves of heat blew at her, and she thought on plenty of occasions that she smelled her hair burning. 

Finally, she reached the first mountain. She tentatively took several steps forward and stretched forth her hand to touch it. She hesitated just a few inches from it, not knowing what to expect. Then she let her fingers brush the rock. She shuddered involuntarily at the contact. 

After staring at it for long seconds, she firmly placed her palm over it. It was hot but not blistering hot. It drove the leftover chill of the cold ocean on her and filled her with warmth. Olive felt so welcomed and at home; she hugged the rock and exhaled with relief.

“Thank you,” she whispered with closed eyes.

She then chuckled and looked up at the mountain.

“I'm thanking you for the heat. Haha. I really needed it. I know. I know. I look like a mentally depraved woman talking to you.”

She patted the mountain like a pal and walked on. She knew the mountain to climb. It was the biggest one, the mightiest one. Her dragon was in there right now, watching her approach. It might be flexing its jaw right now, preparing to blow her the flames she could control and turn her into a pile of ash. Or it could be there waiting to let her climb onto its back. 

A risk. 

That's what she was taking. But she was born to take this risk.

“I need my bag,” she muttered under her breath as she looked over at the biggest mountain. It wasn't a smooth mountain. Instead, it was ragged with boulders and segments. Extremely high up too. Easy to climb, but a beautiful death if one fell. She had mountain climbing tools to help but where was the damn bag?

She decided to begin climbing anyway. She backtracked a little, then leaped with werewolf speed. When she latched onto two outcroppings, she was already fifteen feet high. She climbed swiftly, stretching her long legs to climb onto ridges and gullies. Then, grabbing onto ledges higher up. The hot air blowing into her was doing more damage than helping out. She was wearing tight leather and could feel them melting. She had to remove them.

After climbing a bit more, she found a big enough crevice that she could fit in. She made her way to it and climbed in slowly. She sat and looked down. She was well over a hundred feet already. She exhaled and removed her jacket. Her skin below was already sweaty, red, and bruised. She bit back a groan as she flexed her arms to see the damage done. 

She needed water. 

Most importantly, she needed to see her companions. How were they faring?

The sun was making its way to the horizon already. In less than an hour, it would be nightfall. She would either have her dragon before then or be an addition to the black sand below, as the hot wind would assist in spreading her ashes evenly.

Olive suddenly shuddered. What if the sand truly had ashes of dead people?

“That was certainly not a helpful thought,” she said out loud before tossing her jacket off. The wind carried it a bit before it began to descend to the ground. Olive watched it hit the black sand before she resumed her climb. 

As the hot air touched her bruises, it stung greatly. But she kept from wincing. 

About 150 feet in the air, she noticed there was a hidden cave-like entrance twenty feet above her. It was massive. And she had not seen it when she was studying the mountain earlier on the ground. This was it, her dragon's lair. 

Excitement coursed through her and she pulled herself up even faster. Now, just ten feet from the entrance she heard a scream that well belonged to Lutz. Her heart dropped right back to the black sand. Where was he? Why did he scream? If he fell, he would never make it alive.

“Lutz!” she screamed.

“Help!”

His voice was coming from her right. She peered over and found him hanging by an overhang, his legs dangling with no foothold underneath. His fingers were slipping off and in just moments, he could be like a scattered watermelon on the ground. No. She couldn't watch him die.

“Wayne!” she called as she began to descend while navigating towards Lutz. 

“Wayne help!” she screamed again. Her powers were just fire, healing, and thunder if Wayne was there to bring on a storm. That couldn't be of any help to Lutz. But Wayne could levitate. He could help him.

As Olive hastily descended, she kept calling on Wayne. But he wasn't anywhere near. 

Then she saw Lutz's sweaty fingers losing their final hold on the overhung rock. She knew her next move was suicide but she did it anyway.

She leaped with werewolf speed towards him. Just as his fingers finally gave way, she grabbed him to herself and they both began to fall. Lutz began to scream.

“Hang on!” she admonished, and she grabbed hold of a sharp, serrated ridge of rock. The impact made it cut into her skin and she winced. But at least, they were still in the air, and they were a good 90 feet below them. 

“Find something to grab unto. My hand is injured,” Olive bit out amidst gritted teeth. The rock was pushing deeper into her palm. Lutz looked around and found a crag he could use as a handhold. He reached for it despite his shaky fingers. 

Unfortunately, as he reached toward it, he pulled Olive, and her hand inadvertently let go of the sharp, serrated rock. Lutz hadn't held onto the crag yet, so the both of them began to fall again. This time even Olive screamed.

Directly below them were huge fallen boulders ready to give them a bloody welcome. 

“We're gonna die!” Lutz shrieked as they braced themselves for the fatal fall. But just five feet from it, they hung in the air. 

Shocked and breathless, they both looked at each other. 

“Olive,” Wayne called. He was standing on the black sand, his hand held out and his fingers grabbing unto the air. He appeared breathless and injured on his forehead from the bloody gash evident right above his left eyebrow. But

he was there. And he had saved them.