Celestia Threadwhisper's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

The bridge thread lay finished across the gap, thin as a hair and shaking in the updraft. On the far side, the child pressed his back to the rock. The ledge under his feet had shrunk to the width of two hands. A pebble broke loose beneath his heel and fell without a sound Celestia could hear. "He has to come now," Celestia said. "The thread won't hold him if he waits." Lysander stood beside her at the anchor stone. He had not spoken in an hour. "He can't walk it. He's too small. He'll slip." "Then we carry him." She turned to Lysander. "Your unicorn." Lysander looked at her. "She won't cross a thread." "She doesn't have to cross. She has to pull." Lysander went down the path and came back leading the unicorn by her pink mane. The mare stopped at the lip and would not go closer. Celestia unwound a loop from the guide line and tied it to the mare's harness. She fed a second strand across the chasm, wrapped in a sling of her own weaving. "Thistledown," Celestia said. She had not planned to use the boy. He stood at her elbow, silver shirt marked with soot, watching the far cliff. He was groundbound. His wings shook but did not lift him. He had come up the path behind Lysander without asking. "I can call to him," Thistledown said. "He'll listen to a child." Celestia knelt. "Tell him to put his arms through the sling and hold. Not to look down. Tell him the horse will do the pulling." Thistledown walked to the edge. He cupped his hands and shouted across, plain and short. The child on the far ledge nodded once. He caught the sling on the second cast and worked his arms through it. "Now," Celestia said. Lysander led the unicorn back from the lip, one slow step at a time. The guide line sang. The sling lifted the child off the ledge. Behind him, the last of the rock gave way and dropped into the chasm. He swung out over open air, small and quiet, both hands locked on the woven cord. The thread held. The unicorn walked. The child came across in a long, shaking arc and landed hard on Celestia's side of the gap. Thistledown caught his sleeve and pulled him back from the edge. The guide line snapped a moment later. It whipped back across the chasm and tore a red line down Celestia's forearm. She barely felt it. The child sat on the moss and shook. He was from the far clan. Celestia looked at him and understood that the bridge she had been spinning was gone with the ledge. There was nothing left to anchor to on the far side. The clans were still cut apart. But one of their children was here, breathing, on her ground.