The mountain peak had a bluish hue; Ian touched it with his gloved had to lay the black against it. Unless it was a trick of the bright sky above, the rock had a forget-me-not hue. Removing his eye-wear he scanned the ground for a sample. He could photograph it for sure but wouldn't it be so much nice to have a rock for the mantle. After only a few minutes he had several pieces to take, one for each of the kids and he sat back to admire the view. The entire province was laid out like his very own “Marauders map,” where the birds flew and the cars way below moved along spaghetti roads. Up here the plant growth was low and scrubby against the wind and in many places that mesmerizing stone was entirely bare to the wind. He glanced back down the rocky trail he'd climbed just an hour before; it was time to head back. Down in theory was easier, but he preferred the ascent. Up was the challenge, up was into the new, returning was just retracing his steps.
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