A pair of dusty hands clutched the rock, scrambling to reach the top of the steep grey slope.
"Atticus!" Frances called, "Atticus slow down!"
A gentle arm extended downward, helping Frances up so they were properly standing on the flat side of the hill. The ever-flowing winds of Purgatory were almost strong enough to knock both Atticus and Frances over. And the chill was almost enough to make them shiver. It was truly a bizarre and terrifying place, the likes of which neither had ever seen before.
"Where do you think she would be in all of this?" Atticus asked, gazing around at the blank, rocky landscape.
In response to his question, Frances did a quick three-sixty degree spin to take in their surroundings. Then they glanced down at the angel's chest. He had tucked Bentley's body into his shirt pocket for safe keeping. Now the little bat was safely slumbering beside his heart, like a tiny flame igniting Atticus' drive to press forward.