Journey to the Summit

The world was a canvas of grey as dawn painted the mountain peak. A biting wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of pine and wet stone. Elara, the mountaineer, shivered, pulling her thermal jacket tighter. Beside her, Kaelen, her guide, stood as still as the granite peaks surrounding them. He was a man carved from the mountains themselves, weathered face, eyes the color of glacial ice, and a wiry build honed by years of climbing. He wore a thick, woolen sweater under his parka, its earthy tones blending with the landscape. He pointed towards a faint, orange glow on the horizon. "Sunrise will break through soon," Kaelen said, his voice a low rumble. "Then we move." He checked the rope securing them to the mountainside, his movements precise and economical. Elara watched him, her anxiety a knot in her stomach. This was it, the final ascent. She glanced down at the seemingly bottomless chasm beside the narrow path. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She forced herself to take a deep breath, focusing on the feel of the rough rock under her gloved hand.