As they climbed higher on the thin winding trail that Dechen and Sonam had directed them to, the temperature dropped noticeably. The paths were steep and sometimes they were shaley and unsafe underfoot, made by the mountain goats and more sure-footed yaks rather than the hardy little ponies the travellers were riding.
They made slow time but steady. Edie was glad that she had brought her thickest cloak. She wrapped the felted red wool tightly around her as their breath started to plume in the evening air and the sun fell toward the horizon. Eventually, Jones drew to a halt. They had been travelling in single file for some time due to the narrowness of the path. Here it opened out into a flattish area against a rock face.
Jones turned Dancer back to face Edie. “We could stop here for the
