Leopard's Prey

work out the rocks I want, put them in my bag and use an ascender coming up. I’ve found my hiking boots are better for this than climbing boots.”
    Arnaud was a serious climber and he’d gone into his serious mode the moment they brought out the gear. He helped her wrap nylon webbing around a live tree that was about ten inches thick. Near the base of the tree, he created friction between the webbing and the tree. Leaving two equal length ends, he tied overhand knots on a bite.
    Bijou handed him two locking carabiners for each end. After finding the middle of the rope, he created two overhands on a bite ten inches apart and attached each to one of the lockers on the webbing.
    “One for each of us,” he said as he tossed the ropes off the edge, leaving them two secure lines to rappel down. “Happy?”
    “Much happier,” Bijou said.
    He took her helmet out of her hand and plunked it on her head. “That’s so you don’t have half the embankment falling on you.”
    Bijou stepped into her harness, laughing as he had to pull the trouser legs of his suit through. “Great climbing pants,” she teased.
    He grinned at her, his eyes laughing. “Keep making fun of me, woman, and you may be alligator fodder after all.”
    Bijou attached the Grigri to her line, near the point where they attached to the webbing on the tree and waited for Arnaud to do the same. Both attached their Grigri to the belay loop on their harness using a locking carabiner, double-checking that they each locked theirs.
    “Let’s do this,” Arnaud said, a hint of excitement in his voice for the first time.
    Bijou realized Arnaud rarely showed emotion. He did laugh occasionally, but she’d never seen him do so with anyone but her and even with her, it had taken a great deal of time before he’d let her in enough to relax around her. He seemed disconnected from people, his passion completely kept for his work, which probably explained why there was no real physical attraction between them. Every sport he chose was dangerous and solitary.
    She nodded, and after going over a safety check, they started to rappel down the slope. Clearly Arnaud had been over the embankment numerous times and was confident. Bijou went far more slowly, taking her time and watching the outcropping above her. The dirt was definitely loose and occasionally rained down in a little burst. Arnaud ignored it as he found a purchase on the slim ledge.
    “There isn’t much room on this ledge,” Bijou pointed out, peering out across the water, half expecting an alligator to be swimming toward her.
    “I’m never here long and so far I’ve never seen evidence of a gator trying to come up on the ledge. It’s too narrow for even a medium-sized one.” Arnaud wrapped the tail of his rope around his leg five times.
    Bijou made a face as she cautiously settled her feet onto the muddy surface. Very carefully she wrapped the tail of her rope around her leg as well, creating a friction backup.
    Now that his hands were free, Arnaud selected a small brush from his tool belt and showed it to her. “I use this to brush aside some of the dirt to check the color of the stone before I remove any. Do you want to try? You have to be very careful not to disturb too much of the embankment.”
    He was offering her the brush, but he sounded reluctant. She realized this was something of great importance to him, not just a lark. She smiled at him, shaking her head. “I’d rather watch you, if you don’ mind. I love watchin’ you create art and this seems similar.”
    She said the right thing, because Arnaud flashed her a genuine smile and crouched down beside her.
    Bijou studied the embankment above them. Small rocks and the root structures of trees seemed to be the only thing holding the crumbling dirt together. Some roots jutted out like gangly, boney arms, moss hanging from them. A few larger rocks were scattered along the wall, but for the most part, the bank seemed nothing but loose dirt.
    She found it impossible not to be a little nervous. Behind were the gator-infested waters and in front of her a tall wall of soil, some of which was already falling like dust on top of her head and shoulders.
    She cleared her throat. “Arnaud, I have to hand it to you. You’re very dedicated to your art. Couldn’t you have someone else do this for you?”
    He examined the wall approximately three feet from the bottom. Intrigued, she squatted low and peered at the dirt, trying to see what he was