The song makes his blood run cold. He looks back to see her approach. Slowly. Closer.

Yeah, forget scouting a way down.

He practically throws himself down the ravine, stumbling as momentum carries him faster and faster down the side, until at the last he loses his footing and winds up flat on his face in the leaves at the bottom. It wasn't a long drop--a few feet at most--but various twigs jab into his hands and face, and he spits out a mouthful of rotted leaves. Nothing hurt. He's okay. But going up the other side will take longer, and he glances back to see if she followed him down.