Sheepeater Cliff eighty-eighth

A whisper rose her from valleys of rest. Laid forth in her ears, a vision of the mountains spilled over with gods light.

Tired, with closed lids just barely unearthing her pupils behind their shelter. There, they touched over the features of Senmut's face in dark, and together they rose to follow up the overgrown paths. Racing the rise of the sun, so that it may be greeted by prayer in its awakening.

Her erpa-ha was flanked, the touch of his heavy steps met with the quiet trots of her legs hitting the ground. Deer-like, passing looks over top of his shoulder and eye-level often to his chest with a dipped head.

Even when she did not look to him, her head was pulled to the magnet of his throat and chin. He was a guide.

Legends voice was a whisper, and danced with a wonder that the lost did. "Does he know how to get to," her gaze looked forward to the peak, "top?"