Harry picked at the splinter that had burrowed its way into the palm of his hand, leaving a deep red welt in its wake.
‘Not scared are you?’
‘Me? No!’ Aya snapped, her knuckles white as she clutched the bar and her feet dangled over the drop.
“Do you think it’s far?” Henry asked as he pushed a soot stained finger through a hole in his coat, pushing the woollen threads wider apart.