Morek snorted. "He didn't have to trek up here for three days without eating. His dragon carried him. Of course, he looks perfect."
"Flying on the back of the dragon is not kind on one's hair, and especially when it's as long as Saphir's." Shovia smoothed her hand over her braid, which she'd finally conceded was the sensible style when on a trek. "If it were me, my hair would be a mess."
"I wonder how many pilgrimages he has overseen," Alar said.
"He's been doing this for hundreds of years." Shovia dropped her backpack on the ground. "I don't remember the exact date of the first pilgrimage Saphir had overseen after the return. Back then there was just one a year, though. It took time for the population to grow enough to require two and then three."
"It has probably been many thousands," I said.
Despite how ancient Saphir Fatewever was, he didn't look older than forty. His face was unlined, his back was straight, and his eyes were bright with wisdom and tinged with amusement. The only indicators of his age were his snow-white hair and beard, but then the leaching of color could have been the result of something other than aging.
Moki's head turned toward us, and as his eyes met mine for a moment, a shiver ran down my spine. I had been wrong to equate him with Chicha. She was smart for a dog, and sometimes her expressions were so human that she looked to me like an old, grouchy woman, but there was awareness and intelligence in Moki's penetrating gaze. Was he trying to communicate something to me? Or was he just evaluating me?
"Are you okay?" Alar asked, close enough that only I could hear him.
"Yeah. I'm just at the end of my rope, figuratively and literally. I want to eat, shower, and sleep. But it seems like that's not going to happen anytime soon."
Not a lie, but not the complete truth either.
The terror of the narrow paths might have eased now that we'd reached level ground, but something else had replaced it.A tension in the air that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Are you sure?" Alar reached for my hand, but at the last moment thought better of it. "You look out of sorts."
Somehow, Alar had gotten to know me much better than he should have given our brief interactions, and I would have to tell him more than just generic complaints about the altitude and hunger.
"The altitude is playing tricks on my mind." I chuckled nervously. "A moment ago, I was thinking that Moki had intelligent eyes and he was judging me. Next thing I know, I will be conducting philosophical discussions with him."
Alar nodded as if what I'd said hadn't been a joke but a serious statement. "I've never seen a creature like that." He leaned closer to me. "Perhaps the rumors about your shaman are true, and Saphir is a sorcerer. Moki could be a chimera. According to the lore, they're supposed to be smart."
I laughed. "Sorry, Alar, but I don't believe in magic. The most I'm willing to concede is that Moki is some kind of hybrid creature that shouldn't exist."
To my surprise, Alar smiled. "You know what else I wonder about?" he asked in a hushed tone.
My heart thundered, expecting him to say something about the kiss we'd shared, but he looked up and pointed at the dragons circling overhead. "The air is thin enough up here that each breath burns my lungs, but somehow their massive wings still find purchase in it. How can you explain that as anything other than magic?"
Trying to hide my disappointment, I kept my gaze on the sky and shrugged. "I don't know. If we get into the Dragon Force, I'm sure they will teach us everything there is to know about aviation."
To avoid looking at Alar, I lifted a finger and tried to count the dragons circling above, but I kept losing track as they wove between each other in their seemingly choreographed aerial dance.
"Better sit down before you fall on your ass." Shovia unlaced the rope from around her waist. "We don't have to keep standing while we wait for the rest of the groups to arrive."
As we untied ourselves from the safety line that had kept us connected for the past day, it felt strange to be free of it. It almost felt like losing a limb I hadn't known I'd grown attached to.
We found a clear spot to rest near one of the standing stones. The rock surface was worn smooth, as if countless other pilgrims had sat in this exact spot over the centuries. I pressed my hand against it and wasn't surprised that the stone felt warm despite the cold mountain air. My theory about something underground heating it had just gained more credibility.
"Anyone else seeing the symbols move?" Morek asked, staring at the carvings above our heads.
"It's the altitude," I said automatically. "Visual distortions are common at this elevation." But even as I said it, I noticed how the marks seemed to flow like water when I wasn't looking directly at them.
Alar sat down beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. "Sometimes it's okay just to experience things. Not everything needs to make sense or require an explanation."
I turned to look at him, ready to argue, but the words died in my throat. In the strange light of the summit—a combination of the setting sun and the ever-present auroras—his face looked different. Older, wiser, and something else I couldn't articulate. Committing the image to memory, I resolved to sketch it out later when I had a private moment.
"I prefer to understand things," I said.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And what is your understanding about this place?"
Before I could answer, a hush fell over the gathered pilgrims.
