"Here," comes the reply. "I'm here."
Yes! Relief surges through you. Brett is alive—mud-streaked, sopping wet, and shaken, but physically unharmed. Your friend scrambles up the embankment. You hug her like you'll never let her go, heedless of the fear-sweat and mud squelching between you two. She hugs you back every bit as hard.
The hug turns into a long, lingering kiss. Despite the mud and grit, Brett's lips are the best thing you've ever tasted. They set your pulse racing again, not that it ever really calmed down. You draw apart at last, staring intently at each other's faces. Although you long to revel in this moment, you need to get going.
Late Afternoon