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The climb was a ballet of strength and finesse. Margo’s hands worked like pistons, pulling on her ice axes, placing pitons, and threading the rope through carabiners. The wind gusted harder, threatening to unbalance them, but the team moved as one, each foot placement a calculated decision. Halfway up, a gust knocked Jenna off balance; she slipped, her glove tearing. Margo instinctively threw a quick belay, catching the rope just as Jenna’s fall stopped. Their eyes met, and in that moment, a silent pact formed—no one would be left behind. margo sullivancom top