Journey to the Summit

The world was a canvas of gray as Liam crested the final ridge. Dawn clung to the horizon, a promise of light battling the oppressive fog that swirled around the mountain peak. Beside him, Khensu, his guide, remained a stoic figure. Khensu was a man carved from the mountain itself; lean and wiry with weathered skin, his dark eyes constantly scanned their surroundings. He wore traditional Sherpa garb, layered against the biting wind. "Almost there, sahib," Khensu rasped, his breath misting in the frigid air. "Camp is just beyond this rise." Liam, exhausted but resolute, nodded, his gaze fixed on the elusive summit still hidden in the swirling mist. The air tasted of snow and pine, a sharp, clean scent that invigorated him despite his fatigue. He adjusted the oxygen mask, its hiss a constant companion in this desolate realm, and pushed onward, eager for the warmth and respite Khensu promised.