WILD HONEY — AT THE MOUNTAIN PASS (1990?)
People always crossed the pass in silence—not out of fear, but to hear the wind.
In winter, all landmarks disappeared: snow, rocks, and sky became one, and the road no longer felt like a road.
Sometimes, a steady, gentle glow appeared ahead, as if the snow were reflecting a distant fire.
But when they came closer, there was only emptiness—and tracks leading away from the path instead of along it.
Disclaimer: A work of fiction.