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The path twists, peaks clawing at the sky—every ridge I conquer only reveals another. You’re there, waiting where the air thins and the earth ends, but the summit mocks me. How many cliffs must I scale? How many leaps between crumbling ledges? Each springboard frays beneath my boots, each desperate vault barely closing the distance. I’d trade a thousand safe paths just to narrow the gap, to feel the rocks shift less beneath me. Let the next chasm sprawl wide, let the winds scream—if it means I’ll stumble closer, bloodied but unbroken, before the fall claims me.
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