The soul of a mountain

I thought I'd write a paragraph of a story. I'll add to it a paragraph at a time, as I write it. I'll try not to go back and change anything. It could be fun. Others could add to it if they want.

Lift up the night to awaken
on this mountainside
take sun swept slopes between glacier and tree
and watch the shadows march and ride

Born on the morning with the waking sun, the blackness gone, the fire of blushed excitement greets this sunrise, stretched over the hills below the mountain. Its actual name lost to a people whose wood homes long before rotted into the earth; trees now stood on their bones. A cold spring night had left a frost on newly budded branches and a bubbling stream fought its way out of ice. Beneath a blanket lay a young brother and sister fighting to stay warm. Nearby another blanket lay still, steaming as the sunlight marched on up the valley. Wolves howled, but no one seemed to care. Life had been too brutal. Yet the kids understood what they had to do.

Today they would leave their father, and carry his message home. He had said it could save them; they had seen enough to believe it. It had been two weeks since they had escaped the city, but the night before they had been spotted. In their flight their father had climbed this mountain, but hadn't made it far. The man that had been chasing them, had killed their father, but he had been wounded too, and lay licking his wounds further down. They had hoped he didn't make the night, but somehow they feared he had.