An hour ago, Viktor Blackthorn could see the sands far below the Nimble Warrior jumping course. How he loathed the sight. Yet as soon as the rain began, the highlander had cursed himself for wishing the view away. Now, as he shivered upon one of the narrow planks near the top of the course's imposing tower, the rain swiftly picked up, the wind carrying it diagonally to pelt his body. Holding a beam, he dared to look down, only to find a void of speckled gray below, the shore drowned in the haze of the storm.

Vik clenched his eyes shut, attempting to regain his waning equilibrium, and then turned his gaze upward, at those last few planks above. Each jump mere fulms away, the very end a handful of yalms. Such a short distance, but for one who had just spent hours hopping and climbing, it looked beyond perilous. His muscles burned with his exertions, the man finding pains in places he never knew could ache. His only respite now was in the sheets of rain that slapped against him, cooling the sunburns under his chest harness even as they threatened to plunge him to the beach below.

Taking a deep breath, the Highlander bit back the pain in his knees, squatted, and leapt! Arms outstretched, one hand barely caught the edge of the next plank, enough for the man to pull the rest of himself up. After a brief pause to wipe his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes, he turned, wobbled like a cat ready to pounce, and then leapt again.

Slip!

Despite the traction of his boot soles, Vik immediately found his feet swinging above his head. Coated in rain, the narrow slab of lumber may as well have been dipped in oil. Tumbling backward, the highlander barely managed to catch himself, slapping a gloved hand over the top of the plank.

For just a moment, he let himself dangle, and in those few seconds reflected. "Why am I doing this?" he growled through the din of the heavy rain.

Casting his eyes upward in frustration, Vik looked just in time to see lightning streak across the sky. For less than a breath, the beach was illuminated, the edge of the very top of the Nimble Warrior cutting through the view of the clouds.

Memories of his mountainous homeland flashed through his mind, of rocky climbs every bit as challenging as this, with lightning so close it made one's hair stand on end.

It was the only reminder he needed.

A grin spreading over his scarred lips, Vik gritted his teeth and hefted himself up to the next plank.

A deep breath and another leap, the longest of them all. He felt the plank wobble under his muscular weight, his balance briefly thrown. Arms flailing, he fought with his own body, righting himself. And then, pulling upward, he sloshed himself like an exhausted slug through the water at the very top of the Nimble Warrior.

For a moment, he just laid there, panting, smiling. The rain all around him ceased, quieting.

A few breaths later, all of the beach could hear a roar of victory booming from the tower above!

(Gaelicap)