Tepu followed, terrified that at any moment one of them would lose their footing and tumble. He was glad it was too dark to see how far they’d climbed, but poor visibility meant they had to feel their way, sometimes doubling back when there were no handholds. The rocks were jagged and tore at their exposed skin. Tepu was thankful that his hands and feet were tough after labouring on the work gangs, but he worried how Tarema’s hands were faring. The noise grew louder as they neared the top. They could hear someone speaking rapid Japanese while another shouted. The brothers froze—had they been spotted? Tepu’s heartbeat thundered at his throat. He held his breath. A long silence followed, then the sound of many Japanese voices, someone coughing and a group of men chuckling. Tepu exhaled. His legs shook. ‘Come on, Tepu, we’re nearly there,’ Tarema whispered. Tepu struggled after him, blinking away the falling debris dislodged by his brother’s feet. Moments later Tarema stopped and Tepu hoisted himself up beside him.
