Maidens Point Climbing Rope

A braided hemp rope, roughly an inch thick and worn from repeated use, coils tightly in Ace’s hands as she anchors it to the iron ring bolted into the cliffside at Maidens Point. The fibers bear faint chalk stains and rough patches where friction against rock has frayed the strands, but the rope holds fast as Phyllis and Jean trust it to lower themselves down the jagged limestone face. It creaks under their combined weight, the sound sharp against the wind’s howl and the crash of waves below.