Whose hand was it?

Lilith had lied on the soiled ground, oblivious of the passing time. The moonlight befell on her. She had been there for some hours now. She awoke upon the resonating cricket noise of the surrounding.

Pressing her hands on the grounds to push herself up. Her pale face has been filthened by the dirt. Her sweat had dried as well. Still parched, and exhausted, Lilith was reminded of the boy.

It is already nighttime. Yet she still had not a way to know where the boy had been, nor the number of exits of the labyrinth. Could the boy have found his way out? Or is he still in the maze?

Lilith began to think of climbing the walls and find him from the height, at least finding the boy that way will make it easier for Lilith. And so, she grabbed the vines and tried to climb.

But oh, it was not the case. She can not pull her doubled weight.