Warja wasn't one to pass on an adventure, so when her wanderings led her to a sheer rock face with no alternative paths her first thought wasn't to turn back. It was to climb.
Presently, the young fae found herself pressed against cold rock as blast after blast of sharp wind assaulted the mountain. Below her was a solid thirty foot drop into the tops of unforgiving pine trees. How she'd gotten so far up, Warja didn't know. Perhaps it was sheer luck or her small size, but ledge after shrinking ledge had presented itself to her and without too much difficulty, she'd climbed, occasionally relying on nothing more than a sliver of rock to support her weight. The pup's greatest challenge so far was the wind. Her grip on the rock was precarious at best, but adding the wind only upped the difficulty. If all were still, she'd dig her toes in and that would be the end of it; she wouldn't worry; but throwing in an unpredictable force that came from all directions? She was a little concerned.
Leaning into the rock, Warja dared to look down. The pine trees below moved with the force of the wind, swaying together like a field of wheat. It was not unlike the ocean, she decided, and it was beautiful. The view was awe inspiring and were it not for the wind she'd have looked out over the mountains longer, but just as she was getting comfortable, another gust rocked her, snapping her out of her reverie. She needed to keep moving.
Looking up, Warja eyeballed the distance between her and the top, trying to come up with a plan to get there. There couldn't be more than eight feet to go. She could do that. Easy.
Inching her way along, the pup took her time in getting to the top. She wasn't in a hurry, so by the time she pulled herself onto the plateau many minutes had passed. Once there, Warja turned to stare out over the forest. The sight that greeted her was what she'd be hoping to see. The climb had been spur of the moment, but this? This is what she'd be searching for, what she'd scaled a mountain to witness: the sun rising over the mountains.
It started slowly, fingers of muted fire peeking over the horizon, and then all at once the sky lit up, bursting into vivid colors before her eyes. There were pinks and oranges and among the clouds, purples. All around her, the terra was briefly dyed the colors of the sunrise, and Warja, with childish awe, lifted a paw to stare at the pink hue it had been colored. She watched as a new day was born.
"Speech"
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