By Allison K. Garcia
Every morning he traveled up to the top of the mountain and stood silent, staring into the distant clouds, unmoving but for his flapping ears flapping. At times his light brown fur blended into the fields of dried grass beyond him. He had a worn, dark blue collar that matched the sky above. It reflected clouds below, making them shine like water on a lake. With his coloring, he could at first almost have been mistaken for a mountain lion. But, he was only a dog.
Still as a statue against the cold mountain whirls of air. He never moved, he never barked. If you looked close enough, you could see the faint movement of his abdomen as he breathed in and out. Around him the world stirred. Wisps above floated to the north and the lake of clouds below rolled like puffy waves. The dry grass rustled with every passing breeze. But, there he stayed, immobile as the mountains around him.
The sun fell slowly westward, casting a deep purple into the sky. Bright pinks and oranges darkened until the only light above them was the quarter moon and the Milky Way. Then, with a grunt, he stepped off the rock and walked back down the mountain.