Snake-oil salesman

@kipling

The mountain seemed taller as he climbed, the occasional plateau smaller and the incline steeper. The wound on his hind leg had quiet ended to a dull ache now, but still slowed him as he climbed. Why he was even going through the effort was anyone's guess, he wasn't even sure. The animosity he felt inside had broiled to a full blown hatred at the authors of his discontent. Maybe it was a sense of honour, or the need to cast a final glance on the burden that plagues the mountain and essentially dismiss them with his own word, on his own terms. His thoughts travelled back to the dark woods and the still mysterious female that beckoned him there. The strange glowing tendrils of the caves, the ominous foreboding of the woods themselves. He'd felt invigorated and was already itching to get back. The sun began to reach its zenith whilst he was lost in thoughts of exploring the caverns, he crossed the initial borders of his former home. Now was the time to wrap up loose ends, wheat coloured eyes looked around as he headed for the place he expected to find Kipling. If he was leaving, he wanted a keepsake. Speech thoughts