It’s a bit misleading to say Stella has finally had it up to here with the village and the observers. Stella has been fed up with their situation for a long time now, more than a year, and that hasn’t got any better with time. But while she’s been doing what she can to find a way out of this place, it hasn’t yet resulted in her doing anything dangerous, at least not voluntarily.

She’s taken a walk — a long one — over to the other village on the opposite side of the canyon wall, after the snow eases up and it’s a degree or two above freezing. There’s a body of salt water over here that she’s been interested in, though she’s never been sure whether it’s a lake or an ocean, as she’s never been able to see to the opposite bank if there is one, and she knows people have tried to circumnavigate it with no success. It’s tempted her to move over here a time or two, in order to better go back to her swimming routine, at least when the weather’s warm — but she’s comfortable enough where she is with Peggy that she hasn’t seriously considered it yet.

Today, she’s greeted with a strange sight: she can make out a cliff face on the opposite bank of what she now suspects is a lake, one she hadn’t seen before. In fact it doesn’t seem to be that far off — and, taken aback by this, Stella considers. They’d never been able to climb out of the canyon successfully in the original village, but then a hole had appeared in the wall. She’s not sure she’ll be able to do anything but get cold and wet swimming to the other side of the lake, only to be unable to climb this new cliff — but what if. What if.

It’s a decision she makes from her gut, not her head — she knows better than to do this, but in the moment, the temptation is impossible to ignore. Stella leaves her coat, her boots, her socks, and her gloves behind, thinking enough to realize she’s going to have to have something dry to put on when she comes back. She takes a few deep breaths to prepare herself for the shock of diving into water that’s probably only a dozen or so degrees warmer than the air. And then — she just does it, dives right in and cuts through the lake water as quickly as she possibly can. She might have lost a little bit of muscle mass living here, but hasn’t lost any of her skill, and her body knows what to do here without her even needing to give it thought. Before she knows it, she’s resurfaced on the other side, and — well, up close the cliff doesn’t look too bad, enough outcroppings to use as handholds —

Except at some point, she tries to reach higher and can’t. She remembers others describing this, the feeling that you ought to be able to climb more, or that you’ve climbed higher than you have, but the summit is just out of reach. Stella doesn’t want to give up, but eventually, defeated, climbs back down. Somehow, she’s lucky enough not to fall, or have her hands slip.

She’s realized now how stupid an idea this was. What the fuck did she think she was going to accomplish, except to put herself in danger in this weather? Stella manages the swim back to the other side, gets her boots and gloves back on, and as she’s putting on her coat she notices someone approaching from the other side of the canyon, maybe attracted by the same sight she was. She shakes her head when they’re close enough, unusually visibly distraught.

“It’s useless,” she says. “I’ve been across the lake, but you can’t climb out that way either.” Stella realizes she’s shaking with cold now. Either she needs to build a fire, or — well, going back home so she can put on a change of clothes is probably more imperative. “Sorry, could you— I’ve got to get back.”

That might not have made any sense, but what she means is that she needs someone to go with her, to make sure that she doesn’t freeze on the way.

Later, Stella can be found at the inn, dressed in clean clothes, sat a little way from the fireplace in order to thaw herself out slowly. She has a cup of hot tea, which she sips from at intervals, and a pile of her notes spread out on the table in front of her. She began running out of paper some time ago, but she still has just enough to make notes on what she saw on the other side of the lake.

Now that she’s back and more or less unharmed — she thinks maybe she’s getting frostbite, a little, but there’s nothing to be done for that here — she’s really thinking about what a stupid idea that was, and how if anyone else would have done it she’d have said as much. Jesus, what was she thinking?

She wasn’t. And that’s the entire problem. “Fuck,” she breathes, and only after the fact realizes she’s spoken aloud, and that the person sitting at the next table probably heard her. Stella offers a slight, crooked, rueful little smile. “Sorry,” she says, after the manner of someone who isn’t really that sorry. Not for the swearing, at least. But she doesn’t typically talk to herself, either.