Razorback Ridge slay the lernean hydra

002 of 012 — the twelve labors of hercules ingram edition.

smoke awoke ingram from his place curled among the pitfall of fallen boulders, accumulated over the years from snowmelt and rain caused landslides. it is not thick: not near, but it cloys around him and rubs against his lungs with each breath, stinging his eyes.

so, he ascends.

the path he finds up to the top of the razorback ridge is well worn: from wolves that once called it home, perhaps ... and less treacherous with the dry conditions.

and when he reaches a distance above the layer of smoke that lay over the world yawning below, he draws in a few breaths of cooling, fresh mountain air.