As soon as she reached up, Melcorka realised that this broch had been built by master masons. Even without mortar, the stones fitted together so tightly that there were no spaces in between. She had to find the tiniest of cracks and cling on by the power of fingertips and toes as she pulled herself up, one agonisingly painful hand-hold after another. There was no respite in the cliff-like wall; no ledges or areas where she could rest to relax her straining muscles. She had to keep climbing or give up, and she could never give up.
Melcorka stilled the harsh rasp of her breathing and fought the trembling strain as she put all her weight on the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She bit her lip in sudden pain when one of her nails was ripped away, to hang in a bloody, painful mess
