My breath was heavy in the icy air, as were my feet upon the stumbling path. A path that wound up into a spiral that looked as if it would never end as it climbed towards the clouds from the foot hills of my mind.
The rough, rocky voice urged me on with a gentle demure, not like one you would think a mountain wight to have. I could hear him, "Hurry hurry, time is slipping", and everywhere I looked he seemed to be there. Transparent, but not quite as his eyes sparked from wooded brown to gleaming green in a flash as the scenery changed from tree roots, to rock, to earth dirt, back to the beaten path of snow cracked foot prints of my passing.
He is King of his domain and I felt like a child again having been invited to see him that day.
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