There's a Llama

Aristaios watched as Rakia squinted into the sunlight, her gaze fixed on the imposing cliff face ahead. The slate gray stone loomed against the pale blue sky, its peaks casting long, jagged shadows across the ground. He could feel the chill in the air, the kind that seeped into your bones and made every breath a reminder of the harsh conditions.

He approached her with his usual directness, his eyes scanning the same cliff face she had been studying. His rugged features were set in a determined expression, his broad shoulders moving with an easy, confident stride. “That cliff's a bastard.” He said bluntly, his voice carrying over the whistling wind. “But I want in, Rakia.” He admired Rakia's tenacity, and quite simply, she got shit done.

He glanced at the tracks that she, and now he, were following – hooved. By the scent, a llama, built for this kind of mountainous terrain, unlike themselves. The ascent ahead was daunting, the jagged stone offering little in the way of easy passage. The narrow, hazardous treks wound precariously up the side of the mountain, but he felt no hesitation. There would be no turning back.


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