Eyes snapped open. Mak gasped. Her hands clawed at her throat as she sucked in a deep breath. Panting under her covers, she scanned the walls and the ceiling, sweat beading on her brow and neck. Every hair on her body stood on end.

A knot tugged tightly at the pit of her stomach. Mak carefully inspected each shadow cast by the milky Moon’s glow, searching for any unnatural shifts. The modest square room, outfitted with a firepit at its center, betrayed nothing. Even the small opening in the thatched roof – where the fire’s smoke escaped – and the wood-paneled door to the hut's entrance showed no evidence of a lurking malice. She lowered her head back down and covered her eyes.

It was just a dream.

Another nightmare. Its hold slowly dissipated as she gently touched her neck and swallowed, finding no lingering tightness. Whatever had strangled her screams remained vague and shapeless in her mind.

It was just a dream. She told herself again.

The unease persisted. Mak glanced back across the room to where her mother slept, oblivious and undisturbed.

See, it was just a dream. Nothing happened. Go back to sleep.

Sighing, she tried to settle back into some semblance of sleep. However, each time her eyes shuttered, the black of her slumber only resurrected the memory of the dark form tightening its grip, jerking her awake.

Please, I just want to rest.

Mak watched listlessly as the room’s contours shifted with the descending moon. Dawn would break soon. She had somewhere to be this morning. Collecting herself, Mak peeled away from her covers. She quietly pulled on a dress fashioned from soft rabbit pelts and fastened a deerskin belt around her waist. Her long black hair fell loosely around muscular, lean shoulders as she crouched down, slipping out the door with barely a sound.

The Moon had already fallen this close to dawn. The darkness seemed infinite, interrupted only by the occasional glow of an overzealous star peeking through folds of foliage above. The forest that housed this little village was unusually quiet as the creatures of the night grew tired, retiring to their respective burrows and nests. An occasional chirp was orchestrated by an admirable cricket or two with some remaining zest. Mak stood upright and glanced around. The cool, crisp air pimpled her arms and legs, filling her lungs as if to cleanse them. Mak relished in a deep breath while waiting for her eyes to adjust.

Then she navigated her way down a winding path of trees and ferns until she reached another hut similar to her own – stripped logs cemented together by cream-colored clay and shingled by woven grass and bark. She tiptoed to the door and signaled softly with a hoot before sitting back on her heels to wait.

Maybe he’s still asleep. Mak tutted to herself. The agreement was to meet at dawn, not before it.

A few moments passed before she felt a light tap on one of her shoulders. Surprised, she turned to see the outline of a tall adolescent boy standing behind her. Deerskin leggings gripped his long legs, and a beaded sash teased at the night’s silence with soft clinks. Mak’s nose caught the sharp scent of earth on him.

What an oaf. How does he always manage to roll out of bed every night?

Black hair, stubbornly disheveled despite ardent attempts to tame, covered the boy’s brow. Two dark, twinkling eyes brightened as he sheepishly grinned.

Mak marveled at how just his presence was enough to ease her mind. The anxiety of her nightmare was instantly erased with one smile from that annoyingly charming face. Mak could not help but beam back, grateful that the color of her cheeks was hidden by the dark.

The boy nodded pointedly in a direction where the smallest traces of a path were visible under the overgrown vegetation. They followed the trail as it snaked around boulders and tree trunks, their feet remembering to avoid the odd, protruding roots and sharp rocks. This path was their little secret - a silent understanding of the steep penalty for others knowing their destination. But curiosity was an itch that was difficult to stop scratching.

The sky began to violently blush deep vermillion and blue violet as dawn inched its way into existence. Night began to slowly slink away into the corners of the forest, finding hospitality under the low-hanging leaves and the cavernous bellies of the mountains. It wasn’t until they reached the base of a monstrous, towering wall of rock that the two paused.

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Mak had always felt overwhelmed by the sheer, magnitude of The Wall. A shiver ran over her body as she stepped further into its shadow. An invisible border in the dark but irrefutably present by the sudden chill cast in its atmosphere. The base stretched endlessly in both directions. Its towering height loomed over her. Only a few gaunt, thinning trees and some languishing vegetation fought to survive in The Wall’s perpetual dimness.

It had always bordered the village, a sheer impassable cliff to the east of their small community. A seemingly hard edge of this world where the length and height of The Wall remained an enigma, shrouded in mystery. Wrinkled grannies often scolded misbehaving children with stories of ill-mannered brats being whisked away in their sleep by the formless spirits and ravenous devils dwelling beyond The Wall. Never to be seen again. Mak used to chuckle at this thought. Tightness briefly coiled around her throat.

It was just a dream.

She was here to remind herself that she knew better than the old wives’ tales. There was nothing to fear beyond The Wall.

Nightmares are but a shadow. One must stand directly beneath the light to see it for the sliver of grey that it really is. Only fear magnifies it.

At least that’s what her mother always told her.

Mak reached out and placed her hand on the cool, coarse texture of the rock, drinking in the smell of the dew-weeping trees and damp stone. Muscle memory led her hand to a familiar ledge.

“Jin,” the boy turned at the sound of his name. Mak signed with her hands, “Want to climb up with me this time?”

Mak did not have to study his face to understand that her invitation was vehemently rejected. She shrugged nonchalantly, grasping The Wall’s grey, gritty features. She watched as Jin hesitated, most likely weighing whether to argue against her daring climb, before taking to a nearby tree. He swung his angular body onto the lowest branch and was soon out of sight.

Mak forcefully relaxed her breath and quieted the initial ripples of fear before starting her ascent. Even in the dark, her practiced hands found each hold with ease, and her feet followed surely behind.

It was only when climbing The Wall that Mak truly felt alive. Every movement was a delicate balance between her own strength and faith in the solidity of each hold. All her senses were acute and focused as she labored against the natural pull of the earth. Halfway up, she stepped onto a ledge large enough for both her feet and rested. Lack of sleep sapped her strength quicker than expected, but there was no turning back now.

Excitement crackled at her core as Mak approached her intended destination. Just above her head was a large hole marring the face of The Wall. Mak saw Jin cautiously peering down at her from it. He had climbed over from the nearby tree and was now reaching out with his hand. She clasped it, and he pulled her into the opening.

Mak’s skin prickled from the stone’s cooling kiss as she lay panting. Jin sat back and shook his head at her.

“Stupid.”

With a playful pout, Mak responded, “Well, that’s not very nice. I don’t even get a ‘good morning’ from you before the insults begin.”

Jin smiled in resignation while his hands smoothly gesticulated, expressing his thoughts.

“Why do you always insist on climbing The Wall every time we come here? It’s dangerous! You could die if you fall!”

“Well, here’s a brilliant solution… I just won’t fall. How about that? Problem solved! Anyway, it’s not like your tree climbing is any safer, you know. All it takes is one branch to give away…”

"It’s not even close to the same thing,” Jin cut in. “Even if a branch broke – which is really unlikely - I have branches below me that will break my fall. You have nothing.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Mak rolled her eyes.

Pushing herself onto her knees, Mak shuffled past him. The opening they had entered was the mouth of a tunnel tall enough for one to crawl on all fours. She ran a finger across the shiny, gloss-like walls. It was so alien to anything else she had ever felt before, like water but not. The lighting in the tunnel dimmed ahead, and soon Mak could only see the bare outline of her outstretched arms. She heard Jin as he groped about behind her.

A stream of light at the end suddenly broke through. Mak and Jin poked their heads out of the opening and sat near the edge side by side to gaze out at the continuous carpet of honey-drip trees, red oaks, and bristle-back pines. Directly below them was a dizzying, misty drop, much further than the distance they had just climbed. A distant roar of water could be heard beneath the blanket of cloudy white. They were at the edge of their world, hovering above another.

And not a demon in sight, Mak told herself.

They had discovered this opening years ago while scaling treetops. Perched on a branch, Jin had pointed out the black mark.

“Beware! The Black Eye of The Wall!” He warned in jest.

It’s unsaid but understood by every child and adult in the village that venturing near The Wall was considered an invitation for bad luck. Yet Mak had felt an inexplicable tug - a need to investigate. Pulling a reluctant Jin along, Mak had shaken off the weight of taboo and hunted for the strange feature. After a few trips, they had discovered the opening, and a determined Mak crawled into it. Jin had trailed nervously behind.

“How are we so much higher up on this side of The Wall than the other? We only climbed 20 feet or so.” Jin had asked this question when they first emerged from the other side of the opening.

Mak saw his face wrinkled with that same confusion now as they sat, and she bit back a smile. In comfortable silence, they allowed time to pass by in its slow, steady rhythm.