I Was The Only Omega In The Beast World-Chapter 105: CP: The Rope Bridge

They started at midday—the six adults in a careful formation:

Naga took point, his serpent form flowing up the path ahead, scouting for dangers and testing handholds.

Alex came second, carrying River (of course) and staying in the middle of the group where he could be protected from all sides.

Leo flanked Alex’s left with Jade, the largest baby making small hissing sounds of commentary about the scenery.

Zale took the right with Ripple, the cautious snakeling perfectly content to be carried through uncertain terrain.

Granite brought up the rear with Sterling, which proved to be a tactical error when the climber-baby immediately tried to scale the bear’s head.

"No," Granite said patiently, readjusting Sterling for the fourth time in ten minutes. "We stay in the carrier."

Sterling’s response was to coil more firmly around Granite’s ear.

"...close enough," the bear conceded.

Siddy and Onyx rotated between carriers as needed, though Siddy spent most of his time with Naga (who could handle the escape attempts) and Onyx stayed with Alex (who could gently wake him when necessary).

The first few hours were manageable—steep but straightforward, the path wide enough for safe passage.

Then they reached the first real obstacle.

A gap in the path—maybe fifteen feet across, with a thousand-foot drop to the rocks below.

A single rope bridge spanned it.

Not a proper bridge with planks and railings—just two ropes stretched parallel with smaller ropes connecting them in a cargo net pattern.

Made for creatures with wings who could catch themselves if they fell.

Absolutely not made for six ground-dwellers and six infant snakes.

"Well," Leo said, staring at it. "That’s just great."

[YEP. Yep yep yep. This is why I said turn around!]

"We’re not turning around," Alex said firmly.

Naga slithered forward, testing the rope with his weight.

It held—barely. The whole structure swayed alarmingly even with his serpentine form’s relatively light weight.

"One at a time," Naga said. "Slow and steady. Babies secured in carriers, adults maintain three points of contact at all times."

"Who goes first?" Zale asked.

"I do," Naga said. "I’ll cross, secure the far side, then we send the babies across one at a time with whoever’s carrying them."

"And if the rope breaks?" Alex asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"It won’t," Naga said with more confidence than the situation warranted. "But if it does—Zale, you can create water cushions below, right? Slow a fall?"

"Maybe," Zale said. "If there’s water source nearby to pull from. And if I react fast enough. And if the fall isn’t from too high—"

"So no guarantees," Leo summarized.

"No guarantees," Zale confirmed.

[This is a TERRIBLE plan!]

"All our plans are terrible," Alex said. "That’s never stopped us before."

Naga crossed first—flowing across the rope bridge with serpentine grace, his weight distributed along his entire length rather than concentrated at any single point.

He made it look easy.

It was not easy.

"Your turn," he called back. "Leo first—you’re the best climber after me."

Leo secured Jade more tightly, double-checked his tether, and stepped onto the bridge.

The whole structure swayed immediately.

Jade hissed—not in fear, just commentary—and poked his head out of the carrier to watch.

"Stay inside," Leo muttered, carefully placing his hands on the upper rope, his feet on the lower. "This is not viewing time."

Step by careful step, Leo crossed.

Thirty seconds that felt like hours.

He made it.

"Zale next," Naga called. "You’re strong enough to handle it."

Zale adjusted Ripple’s carrier, took a breath, and started across.

Halfway through, a gust of wind hit.

The bridge swung wildly.

Zale froze—his mer-person instincts screaming that this was WRONG, that he should be in water where gravity couldn’t kill him, that air was a death trap—

"Breathe," Alex called. "You’ve got this. Three more steps. Just three more."

Zale’s jaw clenched.

Then he moved—three quick steps, almost running the last bit, and suddenly he was on solid ground again, gasping.

Ripple, still securely in his carrier, flicked his tongue once as if to say "that was interesting."

"Granite next," Naga said. "Slowly. Very slowly."

Granite looked at the bridge.

Looked at his massive frame.

Even though he had taken his humanoid form— he was still the bulkiest in the team.

He looked at Sterling perched on his shoulder, apparently having escaped the carrier entirely and now riding the bear like some kind of tiny serpent cowboy.

"How did you—" Granite started, then gave up. "Fine. You can ride there. But hold on tight."

Sterling coiled more securely around Granite’s neck.

The bridge protested the moment Granite’s weight hit it—ropes creaking, the whole structure sagging alarmingly.

"Steady," Naga called. "Don’t rush. Just steady."

Granite moved with painful slowness—each step deliberate, each hand placement tested before committing weight.

The bridge groaned.

The ropes stretched.

And halfway across, one of the lower ropes snapped.

Not the main support—just one of the smaller connecting ropes—but enough to make the whole bridge twist sideways.

Granite grabbed the upper rope with both hands, his feet dangling over nothing for one horrible second—

Sterling hissed and coiled tighter around the bear’s neck, his tiny body providing just enough counterweight—

And Granite swung himself back onto the remaining ropes, continued forward, and finally stepped onto solid ground with a grunt of relief.

"THAT," he said, breathing hard, "was unpleasant."

Sterling unwrapped from his neck and peered back at the bridge with what looked like satisfaction.

"Did he just help save you?" Leo asked.

"I think so," Granite said, looking at Sterling with new respect. "Well done, little one."

Sterling preened.

Now only Alex remained—carrying both Onyx (asleep) and Siddy (awake and alert, which was concerning).

"Your turn," Naga called. "We’ll talk you through it."

Alex looked at the swaying, partially broken bridge. Looked at the thousand-foot drop.

Looked at the two babies secured against his chest.

[You know what? I take it back. This isn’t terrible. This is EXTREMELY terrible. This is the MOST terrible. We’ve reached peak terrible.]

"Shut up and be helpful," Alex muttered.

[FINE. To Save your ass.]

[ Recommendation: Don’t look down. Maintain steady breathing. Trust that Naga will catch you if you fall. And for the love of everything, keep Siddy secured because if he decides to explore mid-crossing, we’re all doomed.]

Alex stepped onto the bridge.

Immediately regretted it.

The rope was thinner than it looked. The wind was stronger than it seemed from solid ground. And the drop was—

[I SAID DON’T LOOK DOWN!]

Alex focused on Naga instead—on his mate’s steady green eyes, on the encouraging nods from Leo and Zale, on Granite’s solid presence radiating confidence.

One step.

Another.

The bridge swayed.

Onyx woke up, looked around with sleepy confusion, and immediately went back to sleep.

Siddy, naturally, tried to peek out of his carrier.

"No," Alex said firmly, pushing the curious snakeling’s head back down. "Stay. Inside."

Siddy hissed but obeyed.

Another step.

The wind picked up.

Alex’s hands were shaking now—grip uncertain on the upper rope, feet barely fitting on the lower one.

Halfway across.

A quarter remaining.

Ten feet.

Five.

Naga’s claws reached out—

And then Alex was on solid ground, Naga’s arms around him, both babies secure, everyone safe.

"We did it," Alex gasped.

"We did it," Naga confirmed.

[BARELY! We BARELY did it! That was HORRIBLE!]

"But we did it," Alex repeated. "One obstacle down."