The mountains summon me, each one with a voice greater than the last. I pass one, the next calls me on, in a voice of encouragement and mockery alike, taunting every beat of my wings. Each flight sees me dare another peak and glimpse the world beyond, and each time I loathe that I must turn back. Maybe one day I will not.
I have food and shelter here, and company. What if there is nothing beyond the last mountains, and I find myself lost and alone and hungry in the empty sky? But what if there is bounty and joy, and abundance like we have never seen? It is the not knowing that drives me each time, and one day I might find the answer.