She climbed the last rock of the mountain sheers side, sparse grasses clutching at her tanned ankles. Shaking them off she stood to stare at the vast colbalt sky the slightly desaturated blue intertwining with the white clouds that aimlessly drifted. Majestic mother nature surrounded her at every available angle, huge mountains towered on the horizon, rolling blankets of crisp snow covered one to her far east. Rivets of sharp grey rocks and aimable weeds lined the flat plateau she found herself standing on. She had climbed for almost a day and never did she imagine that it would be such a beautiful site.
Her tawny eyes drunk in every fragment of colour putting them deep into her memory. Suppressing the lonely pang she suddenly felt in her gut she forced herself to think of nothing else but the profound beauty of the mountains. Why was it that such a trivial emotion plagued her when she thought she was at her upmost happiness. Maybe it was because the ruggid rocks reminded her of his chiseled features, strong and powerful, there colour the same as his deep gray eyes. The peeks of the mountains had the same freedom and beauty as he possessed, they were wide open to everything that were thrown at them and yet remained so strong and determined. Just like him.
She closed her eyes, letting the pain awash her anew. Damn him, why did his memory still haunt her so? It was like she couldn't outrun him. His essence seemed to live in everything she did. she turned from the mountainous beauty making a fire, the small branches burning with vigour, as she boiled water.
The sky had soon changed from blue to molten golds and pale pinks and now to black. A sheet of darkness illuminated with thousands of stars twinkling softly from the heavens. She had moved from the flat plateau onto the trail when sand and grit were underfoot. She had pitched her tent and was sitting cross-legged by the fire, strumming gently on a guitar. Her melodic sweet voice filled the air as she sung, her vulnerability tinged every note. She let the guitars constant sound surround her completely forgetting her whereabouts and the dangers that they could possess. Her nimble fingers played to perfection on the nylon strings and soon the song was over, leaving her feeling a little breathless.
Not many women would face the elements in pitch blackness, alone on a mountains summit and feel as at home as she did. Never had she felt so much peace and freedom in her very soul, the vast empty and unforgiving landscape gave her chance to get away from the society's hustle-and-bustle. As a freelance journalist it wasn't very often she could sit and do nothing, there was always something she needed to do. Of course she loved writing, the invigorating persona it allowed her to play was one of the main reasons she had taken the unrelenting job four years ago.
But still, she couldn't remember the last time she had let herself be so off-guard and at peace. She was cultivated in the divine pleasure and felt utterly liberated in her surroundings. Not many people visited these trails, save a few eager climbers. She had seen less then a handful of people on her way up to the summit and each had given a nod of recognition, they too understand the need to see true beauty.
Not many people camped after night fall but she saw no need to make haste and so decided she'd stay for a day or to. On this particular pitch site it was atleast 400 yards from any other trail and people would not find it unless they tore from the path, unlikely. Tomorrow she would go in search of a river, she let a smile touch her lips at the thought of cool water washing over her skin. She added more sticks to the fire to be on the safe side to ward off any predators and then retreated to her tent. Peeling off her tight shirt she shrugged into a t-shirt and some warm joggers. Letting her tied hair down into a river of warm browns that pooled around her slim waist. Closing her eyes, she let darkness envelop her and as usual his face flowed into her dreams, his mirage almost real in her deep slumber.