The sky was starting to turn a hazy gold as Glen reached the eastern slopes of the Elistair Mountains. A chilly breeze drifted down from the north, laced with the damp scent of pine that clung to the thick forests hugging the base of the range. His boots crunched softly over the dry dirt path that wound up the mountainside, the sound a quiet counterpoint to the hush of early evening. Wisps of mist still lingered low between the trees, stalled by the occasional bite of mountain air.
Glen wasn't in any rush. His gaze was sharp, focused, and every step measured. The last rays of sunlight pierced the leafy canopy, scattering golden light across the stones that lined the trail.
