I crested the summit again, wind slashing at my hoodie, fog curling around jagged stone like it wanted to swallow me whole, boots crunching on loose gravel and icy moss, and I started hiking along the edge, careful, deliberate, step after exhausting step, the ridge a knife-edge between sky and drop, one false move and the fall would be certain, hours stretching into what felt like eternity, muscles screaming, lungs burning, sweat mixing with fog and grit, each handhold tested, each foothold chosen with care, I traced the perimeter of the summit again and again, circling cliffs, hopping jagged rocks, balancing across fallen trees, the entire ridge alive with whispers of danger, the wind howling, birds shrieking somewhere below, and I felt small, insignificant, and yet determined, scanning the endless forest that stretched like green fire in every direction, the river I had left behind a silver thread winding far down in the valley, glinting faintly in the mist, I thought of staying, of hiding in the ridges forever, making a home of moss and stone, of tracking animals and sleeping beneath stars without human interference, the thought tempting, seductive, offering safety and predictability in the chaos, I almost believed I could do it, almost imagined myself existing in the wilderness indefinitely, muscles trained, mind sharpened, self-reliant and free, but then a screech of something high above—a hawk? an owl? a predator?—made me flinch, reminded me that the wild was not tame, that even at the summit, danger lurked, unseen, waiting for a misstep, I pressed onward, circling and circling, feet raw on gravel, hands scraped on stone, knees trembling with fatigue, heart hammering, eyes narrowing against the mist, and then, miles out, through the haze, a faint glimmer, straight and unnatural, a line cutting through the rolling green, I froze, squinting, pulse spiking, could it be? a road? a human-made line stretching through the trees, miles away, but so straight, so deliberate, it couldn't be natural, I blinked, unsure if exhaustion was playing tricks on me, fog curling around the edge, shadows shifting like ghosts, and for a moment I imagined it wasn't a road at all, that it was a mirage, a cruel trick of my desperate mind, I dropped to a knee, resting on a jagged rock, pressing my hand to my forehead, letting the wind whip my hair, letting muscles tremble from hours of hiking, and then a movement in the distance, a flash of brown, perhaps a deer, perhaps a wolf, crossing the line of dirt, confirming it, proving it existed, a road, real, distant, attainable, and my heart surged, hope lancing through exhaustion like fire, but even as I celebrated, the ridge ahead betrayed me, a section of rock crumbled beneath my foot, sending me sliding sideways before I caught myself with one desperate handhold, fingers scraping raw against stone, my pulse skyrocketing, and I realized the summit edge could kill me just as easily as it had protected me, adrenaline thrumming, I hugged the ridge tighter, planning my path, recalculating every step toward that road, knowing it could vanish behind fog again in seconds, every second a gamble, the wind rising, carrying whispers and threats in equal measure, as I moved along the knife-edge, I thought I saw something else—a shape, a shadow, a dark line in the distance, shifting, maybe another human? Maybe a tent or a cabin hidden among the trees? I squinted, fog swallowing it, and my stomach dropped, part hope, part fear, the possibility of human contact stirring everything in me I had tried to suppress, isolation, longing, desire for safety, for a door, for someone who might recognize me and understand, and then the shadow disappeared entirely, leaving only the road, distant, faint, teasing, and I forced myself to focus, muscles screaming, lungs ragged, heart hammering with both fear and exhilaration, I had to reach it, to descend to that thread of civilization, I couldn't let the summit trap me, couldn't let the wild lull me into complacency, every step along the edge became a careful negotiation with gravity, a test of balance, I hopped across loose stones, slid along mossy outcrops, clinging to jagged roots, the wind tearing at my sleeves, tearing at my hair, fog hiding cliffs just a step away, and I imagined what would happen if I fell, but I refused to think long, refusing to let fear freeze me, only letting it sharpen my senses, the road growing slightly larger in my mind's eye as I moved, I pictured reaching it, feeling gravel under my boots, maybe even seeing a sign, a fence, a house, something undeniably human, and the thought gave me strength to keep moving, circling the summit for what felt like hours, muscles tightening into fatigue, lungs burning, every step deliberate, the road seeming to move further away in my exhaustion, yet every glance confirming it was still there, my anchor, my goal, and then the fog thickened suddenly, swallowing the road and turning the summit edge into a silver void, panic fluttering, I froze, breath sharp in my chest, heart hammering, fog hiding every line, every ledge, and I realized I had misstepped, a loose stone rolling beneath my boot, nearly sending me sprawling, I caught myself with one desperate hand on jagged rock, knuckles white, nails torn, and in that heartbeat I felt utterly alive, aware of every nerve ending, every sense sharpened to survival, the road was still out there, waiting, I would find it, and I forced myself forward, one careful step after another, muscles screaming, pulse burning, fog and wind pressing in, and I moved along the summit edge, circling, hiking, circling again, miles and hours lost in the rhythm of rock and fog, until finally, the mist thinned enough that the line returned, faint, a stubborn slash of dirt in the endless green, I exhaled, muscles trembling, lungs burning, heart thrumming, and I let a small, fierce smile slip past my exhaustion, the road was real, miles away, yes, but it existed, and I would reach it, I just had to keep moving, every painful step along the summit edge bringing me closer to the world beyond, closer to life outside the wild, closer to the unknown that promised hope, danger, and everything I had been chasing since the river.
