The roof had a bit of an overhang, and they’d just reached it. This was the part he’d been dreading. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, held on desperately to a handhold no deeper than a fingertip with his left hand and reached up and back with his right, hooking the overhang.
She watched this, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. “You’re crazy. I can’t do that. I’ll fall off.”
“You’ll fall off eventually if you stay there, too.” Speaking was an effort; his teeth were still clenched as he tried to work up the strength to force his fingers off the handhold and onto the overhang. His arms were losing strength fast.
He saw her glance down where the ravening horde awaited, their moans filling the air. She somehow managed to turn paler. She closed her eyes, just as he had, dug in with one hand and snagged the overhang with the other. Rather than stopping there though, she let go and had the roof with both hands, and was up before he could say a word.
He was about to try to duplicate her feat when her hand clamped around his wrist. “C’mon!” she called. His fingers let go his handhold almost without his conscious control and he grabbed for the overhang.
With her help, he managed to get himself topside. “That’s two times you’ve saved me,” he panted.
“And you’ve saved me once. Let’s not bother counting, huh? Our competition is against those things, not each other.”