She climbs the rocks while he watches from below

She’s got her hands on the wet rock, fingers digging in as she pushes herself up. Her legs are bare, skin glistening with sweat and maybe a little rain. He’s standing at the bottom, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching her. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. The sun’s coming through the leaves, casting shadows on the cliff. There’s moss everywhere, clinging to the stone, and ferns growing in the cracks. She’s not looking at him, not really. Just focused on the climb. He’s not looking away either. Just there. The air smells like damp earth and pine. No one’s rushing. No one’s talking. Just her moving up, him standing there. It’s quiet. It’s real. It’s happening.