He’s hundreds of feet high on a ledge, absorbing the dawn sun. The breeze is cool, stiff. He’s in his element, his rocky paradise. The ledge holds no fear over him; it inspires him, motivates him. Without warning he leaps from his perch and lands on a smaller ledge below.
He sees his herd moving in the distance, he hasn’t seen them in days. He moves towards them, bounding from ledge to ledge, sure of his landing each time. His eye on his goal, his feet sure. Never stumbling, never falling. He won’t, he can’t.
He’s gone days without water, weeks without food. Everyday is a constant struggle. He survived a drought, countless storms, cold winters. His life is unpredictable. One thing remains constant, his feet are always moving.
In his descent he sees a rival, an enemy. He stands tall, stands his ground. He knows he can defeat him…
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