“I’ll wait here!” Monty called, his laughter chasing after them.
The bridge was nothing more than a fallen log, rotten in spots, which spanned the fast-moving stream. Ancient moss covered the wood—between the lichen and the spray from the water below, the log was slick to cross. They’d need to be quick.
Jack went first, pausing a moment once he was on the log to ensure his footing. Standing sideways, he slid his boot along the moss, scraping it as he went, arms out at his sides for balance. Emmett watched, his heart in his throat. If a large man like Jack could make it safely to the other side, Emmett knew he’d be able to follow.
Halfway across, Jack pitched forward slightly. Emmett gasped, pressing his fists to his mouth to stifle a cry. “Jack! Careful!”