"Hold the brake bar steady, Alistair, or the back wheels will slide right over the edge before we even clear the turn," Zinnia shouted over the howling shriek of the mountain gale, her knuckles stark white as she threw her full weight against the leading horse's bridle. The beast snorted, its breath pluming white into the freezing air as its iron-shod hooves slipped against the polished sheet of slate that paved the narrow ledge. "I am holding it!" Alistair yelled back, his voice cracking with panic as he hauled back on the rusted iron lever with both hands, his wire-rimmed spectacles instantly fogging over from the biting wind. "My feet have no purchase on this cursed frozen rock! If the carriage shifts another inch toward the abyss, you won't need to worry about my administrative incompetence anymore, because we'll be decorating the valley floor three thousand feet below!" "Stop panicking and lean your weight into the frame!"