We couldn’t see much in the fog. No one could. Cairns placed haphazardly anywhere and everywhere gave no direction at all. I headed away from the group, up into the mists, until I could see no one else. All was quiet, save for the jostling of stones under my boots. How far these stones had traveled, broken loose, carried along, ground down in the massive river of ice that carved out this slope. The ice is long gone. These stones, covered in their green mosses and red algae, hidden in the mists–these are the remainder. They lie there still, lost in the fog, slowly breaking down bit by bit.
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