“Great, now it’s snowing.”
A chill sent a shiver down to my spine.
No use worrying about it. I trudged on.
The last month ran through my head, the misunderstandings, the angry words. Perhaps this was for the best.
I kept my head bowed as I plodded along, as much to avoid seeing the familiar landmarks as to protect myself from the frigid wind. The ground was just ground, one clod like any other, one rock no different from the hundred thousand I had just passed. But it was changing as I climbed higher, for snow began to cover the trail.
Perhaps Driman was right, perhaps I had stayed far too long. Most of my youthhood companions had settled down long ago, but I was different. Restless. I was not made to be a farmer!
Mother’s worried face passed before my eyes. She understood, though she didn’t like it. And Father…
I felt another chill, but this one from a memory, not from the cold.
It had started with Father. He was the reason I was out here on the fringes of our society with nothing except the small sack I could carry.
I saw a tall stone in my peripheral vision. This was it, the edge of our territory. I had never travelled further and once out of site of the stone, I would see things that nobody alive in our village had ever seen.
The ground became steeper, more treacherous in the snow. I dug in, keeping the forward momentum. It was easier going up wasn’t it? If I decided to turn back, I risked a fall. I must go on!
It was only an hour further that I reached a small plateau. I glanced up for the first time since leaving the door to my cottage.
A chill went down my spine, but this time with a different, unknown reason.
I was at the top of a ridge looking out over a beautiful valley. The snow had stopped and beams of golden light welcomed me.
I smiled and started into this unexplored territory knowing I was journeying into my future, my destiny.
This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge. Besides the wonderful photo at the top of the page, Sue provided a key word, “Chill”.