Friday, December 11, 2015

100 Words a Day 746

They looked up at the mountain, imagining spirits of the craggy peaks staring down at them. The spirits, if they noticed, or even existed, did not make their presence known as the travelers began their ascent. The trail was well worn, having been part of a trade route in ages past. Heavy stones had been used to mark out the winding trail through the mountains. Where the rock they passed was rainy grey in color, the stones of the path were red. Imported from places unknown, the rock had been made shiny by the weathering of many feet and rain.

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