For the past week, instead of actually relaxing in the evenings, I have been ascending the gnarled brute of a mountain in Cairn. The onerous journey has left the toes of its alpinist star Aava bloodied; I’ve pushed the tendons of her rangy fingers to snapping point. With more frequency than I care to admit, I’ve caused this hell-bent climber to tumble down the same part of rock face over and over again, saved only by a piton. At other times, lacking such safety measures, she has bounced all the way down to Kami’s base off jagged, life-ending shards of rock. I curse the game, mountain, and myself with each major and minor tumble, every lost metre and handful of minutes.
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