The path twisted between boulders, then cut across a slope of loose gravel, then squeezed through a gap where two rocks leaned together like old friends.
Birds were quiet here. The world seemed to listen to their footsteps.
After what felt like hours but was probably less, they came to a flat shelf of stone.
A simple bench had been carved out of the rock, smooth in the middle from many tired backsides. Beside it, a shallow basin had been cut, filled with clear water that dripped slowly from a crack above.
Words were carved above the basin.
Drink and remember why you climb.
Lyan sat down with a soft sigh.
His legs hummed with effort. His back did the thing where it pretended it might spasm just to see what he'd do.
He cupped his hands in the basin and drank.
The water was cold enough to hurt his teeth. It tasted of stone and iron and something else, something clean that slid down his throat and uncoiled a knot he hadn't noticed in his chest.
