Sheepeater Cliff [m] eighty-eighth

Turning to him, the desert-dwellers smile tipped across her shady features. "Yes!"  She would see soon the wide oversight of the flatlands.

Where the tall leaves she had never found to cross paths with even her dreams displayed themselves below her like sand. Smooth-stepped, she climbed with him.

The imp swept through the crevices and uneven rockways. She'd slip silently, and then, oh, she would try again, daring a mountain as a dune. Those same efforts were what revealed a stable way to lead the prince.

The sky had begun its first stages of morph. Clouds rolled behind them in gray, and ahead was the clear view of the stars, and where the sun would birth.

"Look," she whispered so the gods did not disturb, and pattered to the flat edge with her hackles upon raise, eyes drawn into an ocean deep amusement. Dunes of trees, of valleys. Did he see?