He matched the movement of the swaying tower uncertainly. He found he was more standing on the wall behind him than he was resting against it.
The distance to the ladder was a span of several metres. He knew he'd need a good run to reach the cut out in the ground, but nor could he afford to wait any longer. The tower was going to fall, and soon, and he knew he'd much rather be closer to the ground than as high up as they were when it did.
He grabbed Blackthorn by the shoulder. He didn't have time to indicate his intentions, he could only trust that she would match it. Blackthorn's own sense of balance was extraordinary, though hers came to her naturally, without the arduous physical abnormalities that Oliver was forced to suffer.
She put her feet flat against the wall. The fact that in such a situation, she trusted Oliver enough to put her very life in his hands might have warmed his heart if they hadn't sat so close to death.
