Thereâs a fence at the bottom of the mountain.
Itâs not a good one. Itâs old, chain-link, rusty. They donât know how far it goes. It canât go all the way around, can it? No, Mt. Ebott is too big...
It doesnât matter anyway. It only takes a few minutes of walking along the edge to find a part where itâs mostly fallen down flat, and they can get over it by very simply walking. It rattles, and it lifts a little once their weightâs off it, leaving a hundred diamond shapes in the dirt.
The only marks are their own. Nobodyâs been here. Nobody will be here.Â
Nobody is here.
They climb.Â
Itâs not fast. It doesnât need to be. Thereâs nothing chasing them. Nothing can chase them. Itâs not like theyâre real. Those marks they made are imaginary, surely.Â
All just as pretend as monsters.















