They could be any old piles of soil, but these mounts are alive. With a sigh, a puff of smoke escapes from the lips of Fuego. It’s easy to forget that the pastel hills in the distance are the mouth of the fire-breathing dragon, Earth. My goal before I leave here is to see the glow of flowing lava. Every night, I check. Every night, I see nothing but the blackness of the heavy fog that veils the beast. Finally, on one of my last nights, way off in the distance, the liquid fire rises and falls amid a shower of sparks. I smile.
Rest easy, Earth.
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| Photo courtesy of Greta :) |
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