“Oh… tell it on the mountain…” The wind whipped away his words.
“Over the hills, and-”
He gazed over the bleak landscape, steep rocky slopes, washed and dampened by rainclouds below, and across the mountain gulf.
“And everywhere,” he whispered. Thunder growled.
He slid upon the rocks, hugging the side of the mountain pass, the wind whipping up the cliff face grass. “What-” his eyes gazed, slightly milky across the abyss, storm clouds passing.
“What-” he sank into a sitting position, as a chill breeze grasped the hairs along the back of his neck, sending a tingle. “Where what,” he was incoherent. He puttered it.
“What’s goina happen to me?” His lungs squeezed and eyes contracted. He felt the thunder rolling far below, and sensed it flowing partly, giving weight to his sadness. he was hunched over, crying. “What…,…? What…?” A pathetic sight.
It didn’t matter how grizzled he looked. How the skin was no longer lustrous, how the hair had turned a shade of white like snow. He knew it was not enough.. he must go on.. The world spun, but it was really him getting on his feet. “Well,” he said to the air and breeze, “I guess I’m on my way. Hic-”
The hiccups pursued him down the mountain, and into the clouds thundering below.