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The pale light of dawn filters through the rocky crags, casting long shadows across the harsh landscape. I wake up alone and try not to dwell on her absence, convincing myself it's for the best. One less mouth to feed. Less annoyances. Less ‘little know it all.’
With a heavy sigh, I force myself out of my makeshift bed and prepare for the day. My empty stomach grumbles, reminding me that I need to find sustenance. I grab my gear and head outside to check the snares, finding a couple of small-game herix.
The chilling breeze sweeps through my makeshift camp, and I try not to think of her. I try not to miss the shared warmth of our bodies pressed close in the darkest hours of the night. It's easier to convince myself that I'm better off without her. Less work, less distraction. Less drama.
Less warmth.
"Good riddance, one less thing to worry about."
But deep down, I’m not fooling anyone. The mountain has transformed us and blurred the lines that once separated us as rivals. Last night, in the quietude of survival, something changed, something I can't simply brush aside.
I know I should focus on my own journey, my quest to conquer the mountain and win the race. That's been my goal from the beginning. Alone in the cold, the harsh morning, the memory of her lingers like a haunting echo, reminding me that the mountain's challenges are not the only battles I face.
My irritation simmers beneath the surface as I watch the group of aspirants nearing my camp. The fact that they've caught up to me is a stark reminder of how much dead weight I was carrying. Despite my initial reluctance to admit it, there's a lingering frustration that I allowed her presence to affect my race.
"You know, I heard the most fascinating legend about this mountain," Lila begins eagerly, as if we were mid-conversation and hadn’t been separated for several days. "They say ancient spirits wander the peaks on moonless nights. If you listen closely, you can hear them whispering on the winds.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow but can't help indulging her fanciful notions. Davin, ever pragmatic, merely scans the skies for his feathered treasures.
“We meet again, Rylan,” he says sagely, as if he had just made a pleasant discovery.
Lila settles near the campfire before carefully removing a few favorite rocks and arranging them on the log where I'm sitting, lining them up by size or color. It’s some mystifying organizational system only she understands and only after satisfied does she continue.
"Some even believe the spirits guide lost travelers and share secret knowledge with those pure of heart. I like to believe that’s true, that there’s little whispers and secrets in the wind.”
“I think I hear –”
“Shhh!” she hisses, and I allow it. We sit in silence for a moment. I don’t hear even a single secret or a whisper of anykind, but I suppose I could use the company, as much as it irks me.
“So where are you from, anyway?”
“The land of the lakes, of course. How could you not have known?” Looking at her, light blue eyes and matching hair, she could have only come from the Lakes area.
“Then what in all the hells above and below are you doing here?”
“I thought that much was obvious,” she says, smiling. She returns to her rock collection, inspecting and tossing around the ones that don’t pass.
“I’m not so sure it is,” I say. The fire crackles and the coffee pot spills over. I hand out a couple of mugs as she seemingly contemplates. “To help you, of course.”
Davon starts to laugh, Then I start to laugh. Lila laughs the hardest of us all, then makes us a stew, slipping several of her favorite rocks into the broth and a lot of mushrooms. Some of them I’m surprised she’s even managed to find. I could, but I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen years old and simply couldn’t take living with my parents anymore.
“Sometimes, fate catches up to you, even if you don’t want to acknowledge it. But it’s there, like a great storm, and even if you run and run and run and run more and hide, it will always catch up with you, do you know what I mean?”
“All too well, it seems,” I say.
“Well, you should, because the storm is you. Don’t you see now? You can’t escape it, because it’s you. We actually had a long talk about this,” she says, looking over at Davin, who looks just as lost as I am but happy to be included.
As we follow the winding mountain trail, Lila's enthusiasm helps make the grueling hike feel almost fun. Her quirky perspectives on life never fail to lift the mood.
By mid-afternoon, we're all drained and aching. The terrain has been particularly brutal today. Just when it seems we can't take another step, Lila spots steam rising between the trees. “Just as I expected ahead. The Mizirian hot springs!”she says excitedly, guiding us toward a thin veil of lavender steam rising between the colossal keshwood trees.
I had completely forgotten that this place even existed. I’m not one to take a spa day. Ever. But I could use a soak.
As we draw nearer, the grounds slope down to reveal an extraordinary sight. It’s the luminous sapphire pools of the Mizirian hot springs. “It’s beautiful!” Lila says, skipping towards the bioluminescent springs.
Known across Kiphia for its restorative mineral waters, the secluded springs are a sacred oasis for weary travelers. Giant tropical flowers in vivid hues of fuschia and teal ring the rocky banks, filling the air with their hypnotic scent.
We pick our way carefully down the massive boulders, eager to sink into the perfectly heated waters. These springs are no mere pond. They form a sprawling system of crystalline pools wide enough to swim.
