Finder's Shore by Anna Mackenzie

closes on my wrist I jerk in fright.
    “Steady, Ness. Up you come.”
    “How much farther?” I gasp, once I’m safely wedged beside him. The cove looks tiny below.
    “About the same again.”
    Liar, I think. From memory, I’d guess we’re at most a third of the way.
    Ronan checks the coils of the rope then shuffles around till he’s facing the cliff. “Don’t look down,” he says. “If you tell yourself the ground’s right below, it takes the fear out of it.”
    If my disbelief is apparent, he politely ignores it.
    The second part of the climb comes easier. The last section is the worst. Kittiwakes, disturbed by our presence, swoop in around my head. One grazes my arm and I flinch, a cry winging from me as I slither back a pace. The rope pulls me up, cutting into my ribs, adding grazes to those I’ve already gained from the rock.
    Ronan’s voice steadies me. “You’re fine, Ness.” His head hangs out above me. “You’re nearly there.”
    I can’t spare the breath to answer. My vision smears with tears of relief as I haul myself up and over the lip of the guano-crusted ledge.
    “You did it.” Ronan grins.
    I don’t yet trust my voice. My palms feel raw. I rub them together, hoping the pressure will still their shaking. The noise of the rookery is deafening, angry birds swooping and darting around us, but for once I don’t mind their ceaseless clamour or their stench.
    Ronan hands me a canteen and I drink gratefully. Minutes tick by. The sun, above us now, dries the sweat on my face. I wriggle to unstick my damp shirt.
    “We’re probably too late in the season for eggs,” he says, and I peer at him blankly. “They’ll have hatched. Piers and I would eat the first dozen we found, as reward for the climb.”
    It’s only the second time in the three years I’ve known him that Ronan has mentioned his brother. “We’d layer the eggs between moss to keep them safe for the climb back up. Piers dropped his pack once, when he had it almost full.”
    “Did he lose it?”
    He nods. “Mam was angry. She said we took too many risks.”
    “She’d have been scared, thinking it could have been you or Piers that fell.” 
    He doesn’t answer. “Is Ister much like Dunnett?” I ask.
    Ronan picks at the side of his boot where a strip of leather has been scuffed away. “It’s smaller but just as rugged, the coastline especially. There are only a handful of places where you can land, besides Tarbet.” He coils the rope between his hands and stows it in the pack. “If you know what you’re doing, you can beach a boat below our farm at high tide, but you have to time it just right.”
    The birds have begun to settle, accustomed now to our presence. Ronan scrambles up and extends his hand. “Do you think about it much?” I ask, as we stand face to face.
    He shoves the canteen, half empty now, into the pack and cinches the straps. “My brothers,” he says. Our gaze holds for a heartbeat. “Come on.” He settles the pack on his back. “Your turn to lead the way.”
    The quickest route to Merryn’s lies directly across the headland. We scramble south around the craggy limits of the rookery and up onto the sparsely tufted hill, my thoughts drifting to my flight three years ago, and Jed’s mocking face.
    We see no one on the hillside. By the time we reach the copse, I’m edgy with tension. “It’s not far now.”
    When the orchard comes in sight my breath catches like needles in my throat. I’ve missed Merryn, but it’s more than that: there’s guilt, as well, that I left her under suspicion when she had no part at all in the decisions I took. At the time I trusted that Marn would keep her safe, but after seeing Sophie I’m wondering whether Marn’s friendship might instead have worked against her. 
    Beehives have been set out among the trees and relief pours through me like a tonic: no one I know but Merryn has the knack for keeping bees.
    Alert for any sound, I lead Ronan past the orchard