A blur of fur passed in front of the two boys. “Was that a rat?”
“Too many legs.” It was hot and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air.
The barren mountainside had lost a lot of its allure since the snow melted. The higher they climbed, the closer they got to the sun. Wen and Tashi had always known that one day they would climb the mountain which loomed over their childhoods, dwarfing the small Tibetan village of Womadige. They grew up hearing stories about the demons and otherworldly apparitions that haunted its upper slopes.
They watched it change with the seasons, sometimes showing a new face every minute as its mighty bulk continually transformed before their young eyes. Now it was under their feet, adorning their pre-adolescent sky like a pert young breast. Upwards it dared them. After more sweat, heat, dust, rocks and going upwards than either had imagined they were committed to or capable of, they rested on a ledge just below the significantly less looming summit.
The view was spectacular. They could see almost everything they’d ever known at a glance, and there was so much more. The river their mothers had washed their clothes in since they were babies meandered off into the distance in two opposing directions. Far below, their homes were barely visible. “Let’s go,” said Tashi. Upwards.