Crossing the Ravine

The ravine stretched out before them like a gaping wound in the earth, its jagged edges dropping into darkness. A thin layer of mist clung to the bottom, obscuring whatever lay below. Sparse vines trailed down the rocky walls, but they looked too brittle to trust.

Dren crouched at the edge, peering down. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he said, his voice betraying more confidence than he felt. “We could jump to that ledge and climb down.”

Tanin snorted, his arms crossed. “Sure, if you’ve got a death wish. One wrong move, and you’re done.”

“I’ve climbed worse,” Dren shot back, bristling.

“Enough,” Anora said sharply, stepping between them. She pointed to a nearly collapsed bridge in the near distance. “We cross there. It’s rickety, but manageable.”

Sani squinted at the spot, her expression skeptical. “Manageable for who? Not all of us are nimble like you.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Anora replied. “Unless you’d rather spend the night here.”

A low hum from behind them drew their attention. Roam stood silently, its sleek frame reflecting the dim light of the overcast sky. It didn’t move, but its presence was enough to quiet any further argument.

The group made their way to the worn bridge. It appeared to have more integrity than it seemed from far away, though the remaining pieces made it mostly just a narrow causeway.  Anora went first, testing each foothold before motioning for the others to follow. Sani was next, her movements careful but determined.

“Keep moving,” Anora called back when Tanin hesitated at the edge.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered, gripping the railing tightly.

Dren, bringing up the rear, glanced at Roam. “Think you can help him?” he asked, half-joking.

Roam stepped forward, its movements precise, ensuring that the structure would hold its weight. It crouched slightly, extending one of its limbs to brace against the steel beams above. Tanin eyed it warily but took the support, muttering something under his breath as he edged across.

Before he could fall, Roam moved. It extended a stabilizing limb, catching Dren mid-slide and pulling him back onto solid ground with surprising strength.

“Dren!” Anora shouted, turning back.

Dren panted, his heart racing. “Thanks,” he managed, looking up at the Creche.

Roam tilted its frame slightly, the gesture oddly reassuring.

The sound of moving metal shifted above Anora’s head. She had displaced a large structure above with her scream. She looked up and signaled that they should all go back. Fast! 

Dren yelled back, “I’m ok! We can get keep going!” Anora said in a stage whisper, 

“…run…”

The groan of shifting metal above them turned into a screech as a section of the ruined bridge gave way. A massive beam, jagged and corroded with age, wrenched free and plummeted toward the narrow crossing.

“Run!” Anora screamed, her voice rising above the chaos.

The group bolted back. Anora’s movements were fluid, almost instinctual, as she darted toward safety. Tanin scrambled after her, gripping the remnants of the railing for balance. Dren hesitated for a heartbeat before surging forward, his boots slipping on the crumbling concrete.

Behind them, Sani struggled to reverse her path, her breath hitching with effort. Roam, ever precise, crouched low and extended its limbs, one bracing against a fractured column for stability while the other locked around her waist. It pulled her back just as another chunk of the bridge broke free and slammed into the crossing, obliterating the space where she had been standing.

“Keep going!” Anora’s voice was sharp, cutting through the sound of twisting metal and falling debris.

Tanin reached the end of the crossing and collapsed onto solid ground, gasping for breath. Dren followed, leaping over a widening gap just as the ground beneath him began to crumble.

“Come on!” Tanin shouted, reaching out to pull Dren the rest of the way.

Behind them, Roam carried Sani across the last stretch, its movements mechanical in their efficiency. The bridge groaned again, louder this time, and with a final, earsplitting crash, the entire structure collapsed into the ravine below.

Dust and echoes filled the air as the group staggered back, their breaths shallow and uneven.

Anora turned to look at the ravine, now an insurmountable gulf of twisted metal and broken concrete. The remnants of the bridge jutted out like skeletal remains, mocking their efforts.

“We’re not getting across that way,” Dren said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Anora’s jaw tightened. “We’ll find another way,” she said, her tone steady but grim.

Tanin leaned forward, his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Sani sank to the ground, leaning heavily on her staff. Even Roam, for all its calculated efficiency, stilled for a moment, its lens fixed on the gap as if calculating solutions.

Above them, the sparse gray sky stretched vast and unyielding. The Waste was silent again, save for the faint groan of the ravine as the last pieces of the bridge settled into place.

Anora’s gaze flicked toward a cluster of rusted cables and vines dangling over the edge. There might be a way across, but it would require ingenuity—and nerve.

For now, though, they had no choice but to retreat. The path forward was gone, and they were back where they started, caught between the ruins of the old world and the endless expanse of the Waste.

“You didn’t have to save me,” Dren said quietly, almost to himself.

Roam didn’t respond, but the faint hum that emanated from it seemed to shift, a subtle note of acknowledgment threading through the silence.

Anora approached, her tone clipped. “We keep moving. There’s no telling what else is out here, and we’ve wasted enough time.”

Dren nodded, falling into step behind her. But as they left the ravine behind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Roam had done more than just save his life. It had chosen to.