Where was she?
The tree stood ghost-like, the silent observer of the snowy mountains, the river and the clouds. The only thing bigger than range of granite peaks was the midnight sky, dotted with silver and as vast as any eye could wander. Below stood a girl, made all the more tiny, her black, bushy apparel flimsy in the wind. The mountains lay in a great line like the spine of the land. It was as if long ago they were a great beast, only to lie down one day and never get up. Perhaps the beast fell into an enchanted sleep, perhaps its soul was still in there. The range was high to the west and low to the east, curling at the end like a tail. They are the reason our land this side is so lush and the other side is scorching desert. To cross them the clouds must go high and meet the colder air up there, then they dump their rain on us, every drop. The mountains soared up like they wished to challenge the sky itself, they dominated the horizon in every which way we looked except back. But a retreat wasn't an option, our homeland was already colonized, our homes either burnt or taken. The land at our feet was becoming more rocky with every step, the incline getting more burdensome ever so slowly. Sometimes a child would stumble on the loose ground, but carrying them wasn't much of an option. Every adult was laden with the supplies we grabbed on the way out. Our scouts gave us a full half-days notice that the enemy approached, time enough for the gathering of provisions. Some stayed to fight, foolish. We were out numbered and outgunned, what point is there in getting slaughtered? This way we live another day, whatever that brings.
She tripped. Goodness gracious, she had to stop daydreaming. Finally she was out of Worth Woodsea and facing Oak Town.
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Word Count: 603