After crossing the stream the climb began. Five leagues lay behind them. The last league was all uphill. A soldier’s boot carried the pebble. It was quartz and pure white. Belonging in the stream, it was foreign. Here on the mountain granite ruled. The entire landscape was grey and brooding. Escarpments were vertigo inducing.
The soldier slipped dislodging the pebble. Unnoticed, it bounced over the precipice. No longer a pebble, it became more. Ricocheting from rock to rock it descended. The pebble was now a message.
Below, the enemy encamped. One soldier patrolled the cliff base alone. He paused to rest. From his pack he removed an apple. He sat and watched and listened. He heard the pebbles decent. Suddenly he was alert. The pebble stopped at his feet. Knowing these hills, he saw the implication. He thanked his god for the message. He would be prepared when they came.