Page 177 - Fourth Wing

the right side, walking up stone and leveraging my weight with the rope,

hand over hand. The line slips about halfway up as the rope scrapes over a
large boulder, but I quickly take up the slack and keep climbing. My heart

thunders in my ears, but it’s my hands that are killing me. It feels like

flames are eating my palms, and I grit my teeth so I don’t cry out.
There it is. The top.

The rope barely cuts the corner of the structure now, and I use what’s left

of my upper-body strength to pull myself up, scrambling to my hands and
knees on the path.

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

“Get up!” Rhiannon shouts. “One more!”
My chest heaves and my lungs ache, but I make it to my feet. I’m on the

last ascent, the final path to the flight field, and standing in front of me is a
ramp made of wood that juts out ten feet from the cliff wall, then curves

upward like the inside of a bowl, the highest point level with the cliff top

ten feet above.
The obstacle is meant to test a cadet’s ability to scale a dragon’s foreleg

and reach its saddle. And I’m too short.
But Xaden’s words that the right way wasn’t the only way have played

over and over in my head all night long. By the time the sun rose and

chased away the darkness, I had a plan.
I only hope I can actually pull it off.

I unsheathe my largest dagger from home and wipe away the sweat on

my forehead with the back of my dirty palm. Then I forget the agony in my
hands, the throbbing of my shoulders, and the twinge in my knee from

landing wrong after the pillars. I block out all the pain, lock it behind a wall

like I’ve done my entire life, and focus on the ramp as though my life
depends on making it.

There’s no rope here. There’s only one way I’m getting over this.
Sheer fucking will.