18.6.10

Huskdog η

Distant hills smolder.
Ahead.
Behind.
Gert pushes onward.
Plodding. Plotting.
Hours pass.
Days pass.
Time, infinite.
Blades digging into the cliffs.
A slow ascent.
Soot, ash, rock.
Everything lies ahead.
Nothing falls behind.
With the apex in sight, distance is no more.