Icy Prayers, Part Two

He bellowed forth crisp words. With every breath left in his frigid lungs he shouted a curse to the howling winds. All around him the snow billowed and they sky scowled an inky black. Below him massive crags spanned their way down this peak, and large drifts of ice pilled here and there. The shout reverberated off a distant mountain. Unseen in this wild weather of wind and snow, the mountain responded with a muffled crash as another rock lost its lofty footing and tumbled into the waiting world below.

As if in some weary stupor the clouds above him seemed to shape and turn, rolling through the expressions of some massive faces as they laughed at the poor victim beneath him. The black clouds above him offered icy white gifts of snow as homage to the prayer this weary traveler gave to their awe inspiring might. As if in some lonesome desert where the hot sun beat down and the winds tossed up fine grains of sands into whirlwinds of dust, the snow themselves seemed to twist in the shifting winds creating their own cyclones of ice as they carved a path around the mountain top. And just as a row of pointing spears might cause the hearts of the bravest horses to tremble in anticipation, this poor man’s hearts shuddered as he gazed at the grim outlines at the ghastly tow of peaks far in the distance.

And if by chance some loathsome deity laughed at this poor wretch, the chortle was lost in the clamor of the winds and the storm as the traveler hiked another step up this grisly summit.