Brave the thin lofty air, lone beauty. The icy lick stings what lovely flesh is ever so bare to nuzzle on. Reach up to rocky ledges, thick or thin, and be inches or a foot higher than before. Keep those feet steady; cling on what nook or cranny there is to plant them on, lest entertain a long and horrific fall. Do not look down.

  This upward exploit is a dare is out of desire or perhaps duty. This living doll in rags, even with only a little spill of words to proclaim from prior days to weeks, must seek to make an audience with someone or something that the world below would definitely deem as celestial. Whether the myth is indeed real or utter hokum, she will discover quite soon. She hopes, sorely so, that it is the former eventuality.

  The climb is indeed hard. What food in her belly is lesser in its nourishing fuel for her to keep going. Her limbs writhe. Her ankles and palm are sore. Her breath from rosy lips behind an old olive-tinted cloth is weak and desperate. But she must—she simply must keep on climbing!

  The peak seems closer or so her eyes are imagining it to be. She pauses for a bit, reconvening her thoughts and maybe dropping a soft gulp too. Almost there. Up one grabbing hand after another. Her right hand nearly slips as the next ledge is brittle and what morsel of earth to hold onto just crumbles! She squeaks from sudden shock and dread! But soon, her loose hand founds another corner to cling onto. Deep breaths. Climb some more.

  She can see something green as grass just yards above her. Not just such a lush patch but a wider ledge akin to a cave opening. How odd that the air is quite fair again, albeit still a bit cold. She pays little mind to this curiosity and pulls herself, one limb at a time, to reach that great hole above, longing to end this climb.

  The lone miss drags herself up and into a slim tunnel, rolling herself to soon lie on her back. She gasps a few times, her voice so sultry with each puff. After two minutes being prone at the entry, she turns her gaze upon the slim tunnel ahead. The light from the other side is not only close, it she can make out a form there. Another upward path. Slowly, she helps herself up. Tired as she may be, she must go on. Her stroll is careful. Quite thoughts are deliberating with each other regarding where this new path will lead her to. Once out of the cave, she is met with a set of large spiral stairs of earth and moss. Almost there. Or so she still hopes.

  After nearly five minutes go up, making her well on narrow serpentine roads and one wide shallow hill, she is treated to a stellar sight. Those greenish-blue eyes nearly glimmer not just from the smiling sun but this grand plain above white clouds. Other peaks can be seen from the distance, some beyond a mile away from where she stands. One who yearns for adventure would achingly adore being in this breathtaking realm. Savor the splendor with what the senses can spare.

 The doll in rags lets out a soft joyful gasp from the transcendent thrill of what she is witnessing. Living legends of scale soaring the skies. Nearly hundreds of them. They are beautiful, dancing around in this large ballroom of highwind, away from the world below. The myth is real. Take a deep a sweet breath, red-haired lass. As much as it is fondest to just stare at these elder lords of the skies, there is a duty for her to fulfill. Now, another climb awaits for her to undertake. A different one. Speak with one of these lofty legends and humbly ask for their mighty aid.
 

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