The morning sun is still far from reaching her highest point as Karma leads us off the gravel road onto a narrow, barely visible path down south. I halt my horse for a moment, my eyes skimming ahead into the heightened woodland where the arid pines sway their burnished tips on the gentle wind. Karma gestures without turning, and I spur on my horse to follow him. In a slow but steady canter we climb for a while, past the warm and fragrant woodland, up the cooler, more barren mountains, even further. As we reach the highest point, Karma halts, and I stop at his side, eager to learn what’s ahead.
I shift to the front of my saddle and throw my glance down the steep gorge below. A green-hemmed river runs through, slicing the valley in half. The far end’s covered in early autumn orange and dar
