Bit rusty, it's a while since I've written this many words in one go :)

I have made this journey every morning over the last six months. One hundred and eighty one journeys; each time wondering whether it will be my last. I rise with the sun, as is right and proper and sit on the beach for a short time.The sand has not yet begun to burn and I wiggle my toes to let waterfalls of grains run between them. I am close enough to the sea for the waves to tickle my feet as they die on the sandy beach. This daily meditation centres me for the trip ahead. After contemplating the deep vastness of the ocean the claustrophobic carpet of trees that stretches up the mountains seems like an inviting challenge.

I collect my possessions; prayer mat and flags with bells that chime in the wind, fruit and a vessel containing water for the journey. Then I begin to climb; one foot in front of the other, placed with precision, never allowed to merely fall onto the ground. The narrow, rutted track in front of me demands my full attention as it rises steeply. I make good use of tree roots as I climb and am thankful that the rains have not yet come to turn the always treacherous track into a landslide of mud and leaves. I consider, as always, that this trip may be in vain; she may not be waiting for me at the summit. Even if she is, there is no guarantee that I will be able to find her. She may appear immovable but nature has her ways, both fickle and mysterious.

I reach the pool that lies at the base of the highest waterfall that I, in my sheltered existence, have ever seen. This is the part of the journey that I dread the most. Stripping off, I roll all of my possessions into a bundle which I hold high above my head as I step into water so cold that it thrashes the breath from my lungs. My limbs freeze, beyond control for a minute before I can focus and bid them move. No matter how hot the day, the pool is always chill, leading me to wonder what malice sleeps in its depths, sapping the warmth from the surface. I force numb feet onwards, skirting the circumference of the pool as much as I may until I reach the base of the waterfall. Then I must climb again, scrabbling for purchase with unfeeling feet on slippery rock that scrapes knuckles already raw from the ascent of the day before and the day before that.

I reach the top, panting and steaming in air suddenly turned warm. As I dress I stand on sun-kissed rock and repeat my mantra for the day until, calm again, I am ready to face the final stage of the journey. It is not far now, I must merely follow the mud path that weaves its way in between the trees. I marvel that the seemingly silent forest can teem with life that I am all but unaware of. This morning I must halt for a short time so as not to disturb the grandfather snake who has chosen today to cross my path. I afford him the respect due to an elder and observe his progress in silence. When his voyage is complete I give thanks for safe passage and continue with my own pilgrimage. Close now.

My pace quickens, despite myself and I hurry through dwindling foliage as the forest gives way to the vast clearing that perches on the mountainside. I am the only one of our family who continues to make this pilgrimage. Of all the others who have made the ascent, I alone feel the need to descend again to the beach. I feel sorrow that I may not rest here with them and enjoy the warm embrace of the sun in perfect solitude. Some force beyond my comprehension drives me downwards again. Who can tell its purpose?

I am almost on top of her hiding place now, my twin, fringed in grass, the only one of my brethren left who will still talk to me. I spot her familiar silhouette and rush over to the place where she lies, begrimed with lichen. It has been two months now since she last raised her head to gaze into my eyes. Even then she stared unseeing, synapses long ago fused to granite.

I pull out a prayer flag, dampen it and carefully scrub away the green and orange filaments that adorn her hair. Then I sit and wait for her to notice me. Time no longer runs in the same way for her. As the metamorphosis began she sat and cried over me, frightened by the way time had begun to lurch forward jerkily for her, a staggering drunk searching for the way home. She has accepted this now. In truth I feel that she no longer notices the jerking of time anymore. It is only me who stares aghast at my sister as she flies puppet-like in a raging torrent of time undone.

This time, the sun is high in the sky before she notices me and I am faint from the heat, fruit long gone leaving only sticky trails along my fingertips. I hear a creaking and cracking as she strains to move her head and I see for the first time the deep crevice that is forming along the arch of her once graceful spine. It cannot be long now until the final stage, not long and she will be gone where I cannot follow. I cup her granite face in my hands, willing her to be still, not to struggle for fear of shattering the last remaining link between us. Hard lips part slightly, just enough to let air whisper between them,

'Soon, brother.'

 I nod, although she cannot see me do so. Words escape me; I do not have the composure to use them wisely so maybe it is better that I cannot choose the right words at all. She knows anyway. She has always known my heart, this sister of mine.

'Do not cry brother. Only one regret.'

The question is torn from my heart although I already know the answer,

'One regret, sister?'

'Yes. That you will not make this journey with me.'

The one thing that she cannot understand and I cannot explain.

'I am not ready. I do not feel the pull. I cannot lay my burdens down beside you. I am sorry.'

'I would help you carry them.'

I know sister, you have always been eager to carry my burdens along with your own.

'You cannot sister. They are mine alone.'

'So be it.'

Then silence for the longest time. In that moment I feared that those were her last words to me. Was there to be no more? I did not believe that she would leave me thus and so I waited and waited until the screech of tortured stone rose again.

'Farewell brother'

'Farewell sister'

'I will lay your memory down in granite.'

'And I yours in sand.'

'I will wait in hope for the day that you join me.'

'I too sister. I will wait in sorrow for you.'

'When time comes for you, sit here, in this spot and wait for me. I shall know and I shall fill your heart with such joy.'

'I will find you when time comes. Farewell sister.'

'Farewell.'

Those were the last words she ever spoke. I sat by her granite shell and wept salt tears onto her shoulder until the sun dropped in the sky. I could not stay with her, despite my yearning to lay down my burdens beside hers and sit and sing myself into immovable, imperturbable granite. The pull of the sea is too strong for me to sit on a plateau high in the air for all eternity.

I made the return journey back to the sea to sit, unblinking on the sand whilst the sun rose and fell around me. I continued to make the pilgrimage for some time. Although she never said another word I always felt that she was glad to see me. For six months more I journeyed to the plateau until the day came that I found her silhouette ravaged. Jagged edges surrounding an empty space where no space should be. Then I returned to the beach for the last time. I could not watch her disintegrate into a scatter of pebbles, to lie unseen amongst the rest of our people, amongst a thousand shards of souls worn smooth by time. Neither will I become a shower of pebbles in an ocean of stone. There must be a better way for us to live and die than this. I will journey over the sea for as long as it takes to find an answer. I have said farewell to my beloved sister for the last time. I will never make the journey to her living tomb again. The complete betrayal. There will be no heart of stone for me my sister.