Silas didn't fall away from him.
He took Daniel with him.
The coat held. Daniel had pushed the man's chest beyond the bit of stone which supported it, and the answering pull dragged his own weight off the ledge.
Water closed over his mouth.
He went down with one arm trapped, unable to tell where the line was. It pulled against his ribs, but the pressure didn't tell him which way was land. He opened his eyes and saw nothing he could use.
Silas's hand was still in the coat.
Daniel tore at it with his right hand. Fingers, wet cloth, something which might have been the rope. He couldn't separate them.
Then the line drew him sideways.
His head broke the surface.
He tried to breathe and swallowed water instead. His throat closed. He coughed without enough air, tasting river and blood.
Silas surfaced against him.
His left hand had the coat. The right was near the line, losing it, catching it again. He pulled Daniel close enough for their faces to strike.
“Stop.”
The word came from Silas.
Daniel couldn't stop the pull. Leah had the line from land. He could only choose what to do with the man attached to him by hands.
Silas reached for his chest again.
Daniel folded his right forearm across it.
The shirt was torn. There was bare skin underneath. He knew where the palm wanted to settle, and the knowledge made every movement small and exact despite the water.
Silas tried to force the arm down.
Daniel brought his left wrist over it, pressing bone against bone. He couldn't grip. He didn't need to grip if he could keep the forearm there.
The current turned them.
Silas's damaged leg struck Daniel beneath the surface. A knee, perhaps. The man cried out. Daniel heard the sound and felt the weight loosen for half a second.
He could have caught him then.
He could have put his hand round the wrist which was losing the line. He could have let the man keep the coat and allowed Leah's pull to bring them both towards land.
He didn't.
He twisted away, taking the torn cloth between Silas's palm and his own skin.
The hand slipped.
Silas struck at him again.
Daniel caught the wrist with his right hand. Not well. His wounded arm couldn't hold the strain. He kept it long enough to turn the palm outward, away from his chest.
He had done the same thing in the kitchen, trying to get free.
Now there was no floor beneath either of them.
Leah called from the bank.
He couldn't make out the words. Her torch beam crossed his face, moved, came back. The line was pulling him downstream towards the rougher edge. He could feel the direction now, away from the smooth wall where he'd lain.
Silas reached for the rope.
Daniel let go of his wrist.
The man caught it for a second. His fingers closed hard enough that Daniel felt the line jerk. There was still a way for him to follow, hand over hand if the shoulder would let him, hanging on until the bank came close.
Daniel pushed against him again.
Not a great force. An ordinary man's forearm, hurt and cold, against another ordinary man in moving water. Enough to put distance between the grip and the body which held it.
Silas's hand opened.
The current took his hips first.
He turned, reached for Daniel's coat and caught only the torn edge. It ripped farther. Daniel felt the cloth part near his shoulder.
Silas was no longer holding him.
For a moment they were still close enough to touch.
Daniel saw his face. Mouth open, hair flat against his forehead. The man who had saved Leah was trying to find something to hold.
Daniel kept his arm across his chest.
He didn't reach.
Silas went under.
Daniel stared at the place.
The water moved over it. Then Silas surfaced farther down, one arm striking out, the other not lifting properly. Daniel heard him draw breath, or try. His hand caught a small branch and the branch moved with him.
There was no purchase.
Leah was below Daniel now, on the rough bank. He could see her planted feet, the line in her hands, Cass behind her on higher ground with the light.
She saw Silas.
Daniel knew because her face turned towards him.
For a second her hands stopped.
The line held but the pull eased. Silas came up again beyond the broken edge, close to the smooth side, reaching towards land which was too high.
“Leah,” he said.
Daniel heard the name.
She moved.
Towards Daniel.
Her hands took the line again. She pulled in short, ugly efforts, not smoothly, making space between them until he could see where the rough bank met the water.
Silas was farther away.
Daniel tried to turn his head, couldn't, then did.
The arm was gone.
There was a shape under the surface, pale where it passed beneath the torchlight. It moved with the current and disappeared beyond the lower bend.
Daniel knew he was letting it happen.
He had put the man into the water. He had taken away the grip. Leah was choosing where the line went, and he was choosing not to reach back.
Something struck his knee.
A stone at the edge.
He tried to put his foot down. The river folded him sideways, the line dragging at his ribs. He couldn't get his leg under him.
Leah knelt on the firmer ground, well back from the lip. She reached.
Daniel lifted his right arm.
He missed her hand.
Cass held Leah from behind, one hand at her coat, the other trying to keep the light where Daniel could see. Leah leaned farther and caught the fabric above his wrist.
“Help me,” she said.
He tried.
His left hand touched a rough stone. The fingers wouldn't close. He used the heel of it, pressing down, and shoved with one foot beneath the surface.
It wasn't enough.
Leah swore and hauled. Cass moved with her. The line kept his torso from going back into the flow, but it couldn't make him climb.
He pressed again.
His knee found the bank. The wounded arm screamed when Leah pulled it. He let her because the alternative was the water.
His chest came over the edge.
He lay with his legs still in, coughing. Leah got the line shorter. Cass was speaking into the phone now, the torch resting on the grass.
Daniel pulled one leg out. The other followed because Leah dragged it.
He rolled onto his side.
The river was no longer on top of him. That was the whole of his understanding for a moment.
Leah put a hand on his face.
“Daniel.”
He looked at her.
Her mouth was moving. He could hear the sound but not keep the words together.
He tried to say Silas.
She looked towards the lower bend.
Daniel followed her eyes.
Nothing came back.
There was no wolf on the bank, no shape rising from the water. No hand returning to find his chest.
He had no sensation of a bond breaking. He was cold, hurt, ordinary, lying in mud while the person he'd brought here went where they couldn't reach him.
Leah turned back.
Her hand stayed on his face.
“Stay with me,” she said.
He wanted to answer.
His teeth had begun to chatter so hard that he couldn't.