They had been walking for days. The invitation Bajo had received had described it as some sort of pilgrimage. Yet, they stopped at no churches, said no audible prayers, except the occasional appeals for God’s strength to make it to the next resting place. Silence reigned. There was no small talk. If you wanted conversation, you would have the decipher the language of the breeze and the secret messages of the twinkling stars at night. Bajo was exhausted. They were so high up now that the air was thin and the clouds seemed within touching distance. Every time he felt like giving up, they just kept going. Somehow, he pulled strength from deep within. He had not known that he possessed such endurance. As the days passed, the exertion and the silence revealed yet more things hidden within him. High on the mountain, it suddenly dawned on him. They were not walking up, they were walking in.
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