A thousand violins

They walked through cities, through forests, through swamps. By the
time they arrived at the dessert, bare footed, their group had
halved.

Some couldn't stand the sand in-between their toes, they were brought
to their knees by a sun so paralysing that they could do no more than
watch their friends edge ever nearer.

Before reaching the mountain they encountered a village and were
greeted by friends they had never met before. Some accepted offers of
refreshments. Some said they were happy in the stream. They plunged
their heads underwater. On resurfacing, they declared they would bathe
forever. The three that remained continued to the mountain.

On reaching the top there was the sound of a thousand violins. The
three of them stood and could see all that had fallen; too weary to
either return home or continue onwards. They could see all that had
bathed, now wrapped
in towels, having grown too accustomed to the water. As the three
cradled
each another the melody of the violins quenched their thirsts, healed
their cuts and the sky turned the colour of their souls.