by Terry Wylis
“You know, you could at least have the decency to
shave a minute off this climb every time you do it.
” Sam Wilson’s mock-glower staring down at him blended perfectly with the canopy above and the clouds of water vapor drifting lazily up the cliff face.
“Especially when you take a different route every time.”
Steve Rogers settled his grip more securely on a small protrusion from the rock and made sure his feet were stable before grinning up at his friend. “No point taking the slow lane. What’s up?”
“T’Challa asked me to come find you. He’s either got something going on, or he just figures three weeks is enough time for this round of you walkabouting.
” Sam pushed up from his squat and peered down over Warrior Falls, a shiver crossing his dark shoulders even in the tropical heat. “I’m not even going to guess how far up we are.
Come on, I got one of the palace ion bikes. We’ll go pack up your camp and get back to civilization.”
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