Small Realities

Inside the mind of Lance Schonberg

Thorvald’s Wyrd 094

Thorvald lost count before reaching the base of the Mountain of Ice, but marked something above six thousand steps from where he first sighted the malevolent peaks.  By then he could see the slope began only a few hundred paces distant.

As he approached that slope, the Mountain began to glow softly with its own light, in moments becoming brighter than the Moon shining in the west.  Surely the welcoming glow was a trick meant to set his unease.

Or perhaps Sunna, imprisoned somewhere inside, felt his approach and rejoiced at her imminent freedom.

Ah, arrogance.  Your name is Thorvald.

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