Mountain flowers flowed out in carpet under the granite teeth of bears, the silksong still waters shifting slip from lake to falls a canyon behind. Though half a mile north and downhill, he could hear the faint roar of cascade against rigid sharp stones below as the waters would slip yet further away.
Cedar breezes and that mystery smell of water evaporating in the sun on grey stone. He wanders this place as if he lives here, though it has gone a lifetime away. Chill mountain lakes, snowcapped peaks thrust still here at the top of a world.
He brushes away the pine needles browning on the rock overlooking the shallow lake, just a broad space of river as it slow shifts water from higher places to low. He sits and waits for her arrival, wondering if today will be her day.
