As night closes in, the call of the mountains begins in earnest and she responds. As she nears, the whispers begin. The lands hear her. In hushed tones, they reply, "Yes, we await". The skies darken, once again, replicating her mood.
They prepare for her arrival. With the first step, the rainfall begins. Soon, her skin is dampened. She moves forward knowing they have, once again, read her heart. As the rain intensifies, clothes become soaked. The physical melts away and only the ghost remains.
~ Alone again ~ she accepts ~ for solitude is ~ when she is at her best ~
The ghost floats through the low light as mist swirls about. The dark embrace of the mountain holds her close. It's spirit caresses her soul. It's voice, speaking through the roll of thunder, hugs the curves of the land and touches deep within.
With each move, darkness closes in. Moving forward into places most would not dare go, the ghost believes the spirit would allow no harm to come. For it is part of her. She understands it and it her.
Adrift, in this darkness, all others have departed. Only the spirit of the mountain remains. The ghost accepts this truth.
The spirit speaks to the ghost, whispering, "Courage now." The ghost hears, yet remains silent. No words are needed, for the spirit and the ghost are intertwined. They are one.
They are her strength. Understanding this, she lets go and disappears into the dark.