Born of the Cliff - Part 3 As I rose back to the top of the cliff, escaping certain death (albeit slowly), I felt a dull ache begin to spread through my head. The throb became a pulse, and then a constant, the searing pain drawing all my attention and stuttering my climb. Instead of making slow but sure progress to the top, I was falling a metre for every two I climbed, plummeting every time the attack on my brain became too much. Through pain blurred eyes, I searched the cliff for handholds so I could rest my mind at the expense of my body. Unfortunately, the#moonwas small, and I could see nothing. I closed my eyes and fumbled. A handhold! I grabbed it. My right hand searched frantically for another nook in which to settle. It found better than that. I couldn't believe my luck when it found a crevice as tall as to my waist, as deep as my arm length and plenty wide enough to lie flat. This was no natural crevice, but my agony fogged mind couldn't care less. I curled up inside, suddenly cold now I was still (understandable being that I had wriggled out of my shirt to prevent my father from taking my #life). After what seemed like an eternity, I finally fell asleep.