The climb grew steeper sooner than Sonder had expected.
When she looked up, she could see the red peak of the mountain, so high that it almost touched the thick clouds.
There was no light, and she only knew it must have been about evening or night because hours ago, when the clouds parted with the arrival of the rider, there was sunlight.
But there was no evening or night, not truly. Only a dim, colorless gloom.
It made it hard to judge the distance and the depth of the terrain. It was easy to misstep, and tumble.
She slowed down at a few points, testing the ground with the end of her staff before committing her entire weight to it, trying to feel for stone that would hold.
Many surfaces were broken into plates and ridges that might once have fit together, but that must have been long ago.
She stumbled more than once, catching herself. It wasn't that the ground was unfriendly, but its nature was hard to traverse.
The dust-creature clung tighter to her shoulder. It was scared of getting closer to the red peak and shuddered whenever she almost fell, but it did not part from her.
She paused when the slope ahead seemed to vanish into uneven shadow, the ground rising sharply before falling away again.
The rock ahead curved.
It wasn't a straight ascent, nor a sheer face. Instead, the land sloped upward in a long, winding incline, bending back on itself in wide arcs. The stone there seemed to be worn smoother, not by hand or feet, but by time or coincidence.
Almost like a natural path.
Sonder followed it.
After a while, how long, she could not say, Sonder stopped beneath a jutting overhang where the stone leaned outward, offering some shelter; though there was no wind or rain, it did shield her from the oppressive press of the clouds.
She decided she should at least drink something.
She reached back and eased her pack from her shoulders, setting it carefully on the ground. The dust-creature loosened its hold just slightly, sensing the pause.
From her pack, she drew out a water-pouch, and one small jar. It was the sweet jelly.
Sonder had barely touched it.
She felt bad for not having eaten any of it.
Opening the lid, she dipped a finger in and tasted it.
The dust-creature had shifted.
It had lifted itself slightly from her shoulder, its shape loosening, turning toward her hand. It hovered there, then drifted toward the jelly as if drawn by something.
"Oh," she said softly.
She lowered her hand, careful, and held it near it.
The dust-creature didn't touch the jelly at once. Instead, tiny motes peeled from it, touched the jelly and then returned to it.
Then the creature quivered, then expanded just a little, growing rounder and fuller. And then it fed in earnest.
It was like watching a bee settle into flowers, unhurried and intent, taking what it needed.
Sonder smiled.
"I hope you find it tasty," she said.
The creature made a brighter cooing sound than before, lingering close to her hand until the jelly was gone from her fingertip. When it drifted back to her shoulder, it felt steadier somehow, less fragile.
Sonder licked the remaining sweetness from her finger and replaced the lid on the jar.
She drank a little more and put it all back into her pack, and continued her journey.