Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Raven stood at the base of the towering cliff face, his eyes tracing the jagged lines and crevices that stretched skyward.

Nothing like it, he thought.

The early morning sun cast long shadows across the rock, creating a tapestry of light and dark that seemed to shift and change with each passing moment. He breathed deeply, inhaling the crisp desert air, which was tinged with the scent of sage and dust.

The cliff before him would be a formidable challenge, even for someone of his considerable skill and experience. Its surface was a complex maze of cracks, ledges, and overhangs, each presenting its own unique set of obstacles. Raven's trained eye picked out potential routes, assessing their difficulty and viability with the practiced ease of a master climber.

He reached out, running his calloused hand over the rough surface of the rock. The sandstone was cool to the touch, its texture a familiar comfort against his skin. Raven closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pulse of the mountain beneath his fingers. To him, it was a living thing, ancient and powerful, demanding respect from those who dared to challenge it.

Opening his eyes, Raven began to plan his ascent. He would start with the obvious crack system to his left, using it to gain height quickly. Then, a tricky traverse to the right would bring him to a series of small ledges. From there, it would be a test of endurance and skill, finding the smallest of holds to inch his way up the near-vertical face.

It would be a long climb, likely taking several hours. But time was on his side today. He had arrived early, well ahead of his unsuspecting quarry.

Raven reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He navigated to the Extreme Limits forum, quickly finding the message he had read earlier. His eyes narrowed as he re-read the post:

In honor of Jake and Brad, I'm tackling the east face of Razor's Edge today. No ropes, no safety gear. Just me and the mountain. I'll conquer this mountain or die trying.

The words made Raven's blood boil. The sheer arrogance, the blatant disrespect for the mountain and for the lives lost... it was everything he despised about these so-called 'extreme' climbers. They treated nature as a playground, as a backdrop for their social media fame, with no understanding of its true power and majesty.

He pocketed his phone, a grim smile playing on his lips. It was almost too easy. She had told him exactly where she would be and what she planned to do. And with the police warnings keeping other climbers away, he didn't have to worry about unexpected interference.

Raven checked his harness, making sure each buckle was secure. His rack of gear clinked softly as he arranged it, the sound a comforting melody to his ears. Each piece of equipment was meticulously maintained, much of it vintage. He preferred the reliability and simplicity of older gear, finding a certain poetry in using the same tools that had served climbers for generations.

Could he climb this without his gear? Probably so. But that would be disrespectful to the mountain, a tempting of fate. Besides, he had nothing to prove

As he worked, Raven's mind wandered to the past. He remembered a time when he, too, had been young and foolish, believing he could conquer any peak, survive any challenge.

The tragedy that had shaped him, that had opened his eyes to the true nature of the wilderness, was not something he often allowed himself to dwell on. But as he prepared to climb, to mete out his own form of justice, the memories surfaced unbidden.

He had been barely more than a boy, full of confidence and bravado. He and his climbing partner, Linda, had set out to tackle a notoriously difficult route. They were going to be the youngest team ever to complete it, or so they had boasted to anyone who would listen.

But the mountain had other plans. A sudden storm, a moment of inattention, a single misstep... and Linda was gone, her scream fading into the howling wind as she plummeted into the abyss. Raven had been left clinging to the cliff face, battered by wind and rain, his world shattered in an instant.

It was in that moment, suspended between earth and sky, that Raven had truly understood the power of nature. It was not a force to be conquered or tamed, but one to be respected, even revered. The wilderness didn't care about human ambitions or social media likes. It was indifferent to their petty concerns, existing in a realm beyond human comprehension.

In the years that followed, Raven had dedicated himself to understanding the natural world. He had learned to move through it not as a conqueror, but as a supplicant, always aware of its awesome power. And as he watched a new generation of climbers emerge, treating the wilderness as nothing more than a backdrop for their egos, he had felt a calling. A duty to protect the sanctity of these wild places, to teach respect to those who would desecrate them with their arrogance.

If that meant eliminating those who posed the greatest threat, so be it. He was simply an instrument of nature's will, restoring balance where humans had upset it.

With a final check of his gear, Raven began to climb. He moved up the initial crack system with ease, his body flowing over the rock as if he were a part of it.

As he climbed, Raven's awareness expanded. He felt the subtle shifts in the wind, the warmth of the sun on his back, the texture of the rock beneath his fingers. Every sense was heightened, attuned to the subtle language of the mountain.

The first significant challenge came at the traverse. Raven paused, studying the sequence of moves required. It would require a delicate balance of strength and technique, with little margin for error. He took a deep breath, centering himself, then began to move.

His fingers found tiny crimps and edges, barely more than irregularities in the rock. His feet smeared against the smooth surface, relying on friction and perfect balance. For a heart-stopping moment, he was suspended over hundreds of feet of empty air, his entire weight resting on the barest of holds.

But Raven didn't lose his cool. In moments like these, he felt truly alive, truly connected to the primal essence of the natural world.

As he completed the traverse and pulled himself onto a small ledge, Raven allowed himself a moment to rest. He leaned back against the cliff face, his breath coming in measured pants. From this vantage point, he could see for miles across the rugged landscape. The beauty of it never failed to move him, the vast expanse of wilderness a testament to nature's enduring power.

Raven scanned the base of the cliff, searching for any sign of his target. There was no movement yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. She would come, driven by her misguided quest for glory, blind to the true nature of the challenge she faced.

As he prepared to continue his ascent, something caught Raven's eye. Farther along the ledge, partially hidden by an outcropping, was a small opening. A cave, barely visible unless you knew exactly where to look.

Raven's mind began to race with possibilities. A cave could provide the perfect vantage point, a hidden spot from which to observe and, if necessary, to act. It could also serve as a shelter, a place to wait out the hottest part of the day if his quarry was delayed.

Carefully, he began to make his way along the narrow ledge. The footing was treacherous, loose scree and pebbles threatening to send him plummeting with every step. But Raven moved with the sure-footed grace of a mountain goat, his body instinctively adjusting to the unstable terrain.

As he neared the cave entrance, Raven paused, listening intently. In the wilderness, caves were often home to wildlife, and disturbing a bear or mountain lion in its den would be a fatal mistake—assuming they could reach such an isolated cave.

But the only sound was the whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a hawk.

Satisfied that it was safe, Raven ducked into the cave. The temperature dropped immediately, the cool darkness a stark contrast to the sun-baked cliff face. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that the cave was deeper than he had initially thought, extending back into the heart of the mountain.

Raven moved further inside, his footsteps echoing softly off the rock walls. The cave widened into a small chamber, large enough for him to stand comfortably. Shafts of sunlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling, providing just enough light to see by.

He imagined his target, cocky and overconfident, making her way up the cliff face. He would watch her progress, timing his intervention perfectly. Perhaps he would allow her to reach the ledge, to taste the triumph of her supposed conquest. And then, just as she believed herself victorious, he would reveal the truth of her vulnerability.

Raven felt a sense of rightness settles over him. This was why he was here, why he had been spared all those years ago when Linda had fallen. He was a guardian of the wilderness, a protector of its sacred spaces. Through his actions, he would ensure that those who came to these places did so with the proper reverence and respect.

As he settled in to wait, Raven's hand unconsciously moved to the frayed rope bracelet he always wore. It was a reminder of the lesson he had learned, a physical connection to the moment that had set him on this path. He ran his fingers over the worn fibers, feeling each imperfection, each reminder of his brush with death.

Soon, he thought. She'll be here soon.

Raven would be ready. Ready to deliver a lesson that she—and through her, the world—would never forget.

The stage was set. The mountain waited, indifferent to the drama about to unfold upon its ancient face. And Raven, its self-appointed guardian, prepared to once again carry out what he saw as his sacred duty.