As the sun rose in the distance the sky turned from black to creamy orange. The streams of clouds twirled in the sky as the cold wind cut through Castor’s thin clothing giving him a chill. The colder the air got as they climbed up the mountain the harder it was for Castor to breath, every breath was icy and painful which hurt his nose and burned his lungs.
“Are you alright?” asked Anneli who had noticed Castor pressing his hand against his aching chest.
“I’m fine, I’m just a bit cold.”
“Here,” said Anneli taking off his cape, “wear this, I still have my winter fur, I’ll be fine.”
Ding-a-ling-a-ling. The sound of a bell from a distance away was heard.
“What if someone sees you?”
“No one comes down this path this early in the morning, even if they do I can just hide until they pass.”
Castor knew he should not but at heart he as a selfish person so he graciously accepted Anneli’s offer and wore the cape. Soon they reached the midpoint of the mountain, the land had been levelled off and a settlement had been built. Small huts that were near the path were currently empty but Castor could see a stream of smoke some distance off. A stubborn few must have carved an existence on this steep and rocky mountain, where nothing much in terms of grain or vegetable could be grown here thought Castor. Yet he recalled how his own people once travelled the desert for decades and survived off its meagre resources stubbornly as well so he was in no place to judge. As Anneli lead him in to a small mountain thicket Castor observed the sturdy rough looking plants with thick trunks and thorny leaves and wondered if a flower as delicate as a rose could survive here. In the ticket, against the side of the mountain and small but deep cave had been dug many centuries previous. As they passes Anneli pointed to it and said in passing, “that is where I was born.” Castor was surprised, “Did you family live in the mountains as well?” asked Castor intrigued. “Probably,” replied Anneli, “but I don’t remember them anyway.”