Brynn has heard tales of the bridge, picked up in dusty taverns. Overhearing the more seasoned adventurers talk about it has always sent a chill down her spine. She's not afraid of heights, at least she's pretty sure she isn't. Pretty sure... what's a little height going to do to get her down? Right, the pretty sure of it all evaporates when she's finally there, standing nose to nose with it.

The stories weren't just told to boast, weren't just told to flex. Now, looking out over the ragged ropes and far spaced planks, Brynn knows the old heads talk about this as a warning. Suspended over the river of molten rock, she can feel the anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach. Churning uncomfortably, leaving the girl feeling far more nauseated than she'd like. Not one to give in to her anxieties, this is... a little much. More than a little much, as she assesses her next move carefully.

No, there's no challenge down here that she can't handle. Brynn has promised herself that much. The only thing to it is to do it. Rolling her shoulders back, trying to force her muscles to relax, she takes a step out onto the wobbly planks. Okay... not too bad. One step, and then another. One foot in front of the next, maybe it's not so bad if she's not looking down.

But not looking down is a trap, too. As she shifts her weight onto the next plank, barely a few feet out, some of the charred wood gives way. The slat comes loose, falling to the lava far below. Panic coloring her expression, and every system in her body, Brynn loses her nerve. Turning tail and sprinting back to safety, heart pounding in her chest. Stumbling when she finally reaches solid ground, back from whence she came.

Perhaps it's for the best she chickens out, today.