As we climb ever higher, the more arduous the journey becomes – the terrain turning rocky and inaccessible. The land, borderline desolate, with only thin patches of grass and bushes growing on the mountain side. Not even birds or rodents seem to thrive on these heights and I am starting to wonder if the land is indeed as accurst as the stories suggest. For even mountains has some sort of wildlife, an ecosystem where resilient animals live.
Furthermore, could a civilisation really survive this harsh climate? Or did the climate change? Perhaps something else allowed it to survive and thrive? Something that we couldn’t even fathom today?
But, I am getting ahead of myself, as I have yet to find any proof of the existence of such a civilisation, regardless of how much I wish it to be… And I really do; to the point of lunacy, one might say. But the prospect of such findings helps me cope with the endless drizzle that chills down my bone. Never allowing our bodies to fully warm – our clothes always wet.
At least the wind is calm, mercifully sparing us of the additional suffering such weather would bring. Not that it would hinder us more than it already has, with its slippery slopes and none existent paths.
That we have managed to take our wagons this far is nothing more than miraculous, but I fear this is as far as we go for the peaks are simply too steep. Impossible to climb even alone.
We can only pray that we may find something that will allow us to escape these wretched lands. Another miracle perhaps? Avos be willing.
Read the rest of the series here: The Exodus Journal