The mountain path ahead was scattered with loose rock, each one washed smooth by the river that once ran freely over them.
Thickly dark green boughs arched over the path from each side, competing for the light.
Under their dappled shade the harshness of the midday sun was muted but it did little to make the steep incline any easier.
But Arial felt no fatigue unlike his companion. He looks forward to the journey with excitement
They have finally arrived at Heaven Mountain.
Trees and frost can be seen to rise, shielding them from the hot sun. The sound of rivers and water fall excite Arial heart.
The Heaven Mountain where rivers flow, and where there are greens and people, all congregating in this one spot.
There is a sacredness here that transcends everyday concerns, worries, and worldly thoughts casting them into the timelessness of forests, of mountains.