Grayell chuckled, his eyes back on the road. The valley surely couldn't run much further, it was a blood death trap should this rain not back off. He knew the danger they faced but wasn't about to elaborate. His hand sort of bounced her shoulder.
Then go. Much warmer in there... just don't try anything with the driver eh? He needs his sleep. I'll make camp the moment we're safe.
Grayell hadn't an answer for that, it was beyond his ability to know what came next. But the horses had worked too hard and he was burning too hot - literally himself to not rest as soon as they could manager.
Don't worry about it. The storm can't last.
Grayel grimaced as the cart took a turn now on the winding trail that led out of the valley, the rear wheel slipping in the slick mud and causing the carriage to lurch.
His eyes flared but he said nothing and only tightened his grip on the reins. Mud slid around them and water ran too fast down the tiny trail but he drove them on, they had to get out of danger. Another slip, another lurch to one side... and he said nothing.
She held onto the seat with one hand, and her hat with the other. She tried to move with the lurching of the carriage, concerned about how badly it was moving. She kept quiet, however, trusting Gray to get them out somewhat safely.
The carriage rounded the last corner, a precarious corner; the road looking ready to wash out entirely. The storm was not letting up but Grayell had slowed the horses to deal with this double-back...
The rear slipped again. Grayell was resolute and eased the horses on, they only needed to make it past this one bend and would be home free. Mud washed down the embankment to their side and then ran off the trail, cascading like a sheet waterfall to below. The horses were nervous and showed their unease and Grayell did his best to calm them...
... and the rear slipped again. His hand shot out and grabbed the rail beside her as he slid, the carriage leaning far too much. His other hand was holding her in place and his eyes were shocked, one wheel had left the trail now and the carriage was tipping.
GRAB THE REINS!
The sense of urgency was immediate, she too was sliding on the bench toward the drop, only held in place by quick hands and Grayell. He looked about hurriedly and then looked at her...
You just get us the hell out of here.
With that he released and slid from the carriage, his body now dangling off the precipice. He spat the rain that belted into his face and swung to the rear of the carriage and off, then turned in the slick much to grab the carriage. His face contorted as he strained and yanked on the damn carriage, a loud groan of anguish and defiance loud enough for her to here over the storm. The horses were rearing, they knew the danger and wanted to be loose immediately.
Margrett looked from the horses to where Grayell had disappeared, then growled and tied the reins to the seat beneath her, pulling them taut. She hoped that this would encourage the horses to pull, and that she would be able to get back on once they got the carriage out of the mud...if they did. She jumped down on the other side, grabbing the wooden thing and pulling with all her strength, opposite Grayell, hoping that would be enough to keep it from tumbling over the side of the cliff.
Grayell screamed as he pressed blood through his body and increased his power three-fold. The horses were trying to pull free and his noise wasn't helping to settle them of course, which helped in the combined effort to right the carriage.
His muscles bulged to extremes, trails of blood snaking under the skin and he tore at the cabin, his feet pressing hard in the slick ground as Margrett gave it her all as well...
... and their teamwork paid off. The cabin righted and thumped to it's nearly destroyed wheel, the horses yanking at it, slowly gaining their own footing and pulling it up the very last, slight hill. Grayell fell to his knees then, he'd demanded too much of his body after the extended exertion against the elements and this sudden rush of power. He was still getting used to his full potential and every time he pressed it a little more, it made his head swim. He had more to give though...
He wiped his muddied and rain-wet face, chest heaving for air. His eyes found Margrett and he lifted a hand, a very tired hand with a very tired gesture.
Grayell was damn near dead on his feet and his steps were dragging through the mud. It was evident he needed her help to move at all at this time. His lips were blue and he was soaked through, his skin pale, his teeth chattering. The fatigue and cold had hit him like a wall and he was suffering too much of it, his mental faculties starting to tire, his ability to coordinate movement starting to be compromised. He uttered only one more word as she swung the door open.
..... Cold.
The driver was awake now and looking better for it, though he was still entirely miserable and no less frightened. He didn't say much but instead helped her, pulling Grayell into the cabin where Gray collapsed on the large seat.
Meanwhile, a wall of mud slipped from the path they had traversed and it set off a chain reaction now, the landslide and wash of black water flooding the valley below and obliterating anything in it's path. They had gotten lucky and a little too close.
She tried to pull off his coat and shirt, struggling with his near-dead weight. Her cape, which she'd hurriedly tucked into the collar of her armor, was pulled over Grayell is an instant, along with the blanket that the driver had been draped in. She sat him up in the seat and sat behind him, hugging him to herself, trying to warm him. She whispered to him, rubbing the blanket on his chest.
Come on, wolfman....you're not going anywhere unless I say so.