(no subject)
A very powerful magical object fell into my possession last weekend. Yes, I have acquired the hairs of a mountain goat.
I wish I knew how to make a Sure of Step Potion with them, but alas, being a Muggle, I will probably just tuck a few strands under the insole of each running shoe and hope for the best.
I think it was a karmic return. I accompanied my best friend to the summit of one of our highest local peaks last Saturday. Here is a nice picture of it, albeit in winter (I have also skied it top to bottom as of last February): http://www.go-utah.com/activityLink.cfm?activity_id=453064521
We travelled the ridge that follows the skyline on the left hand side of the picture. It's not a particularly difficult mountaineering route, but after suffering through three years of law school, said friend is now fighting her way through life as the low woman on the totem pole at her law firm. That leaves little time to climb or run; she's admittedly out of her best shape. So I went along for...expertise, I guess... and had a great time. It was sunny and glorious and I was happy to be out there. It took a fair bit longer than it does for Boy Wonder and I though.
As I was scampering along, I pulled up beside a scraggly bush to wait. Dangling most enticingly was wool enough to make six cotton balls. A shedding goat had left me this gift. I snatched it up, awestruck. I worship those goats. They scramble along mythically, ever sure of foot. Proudly they stand atop the highest crags, crowned in horny headress, proclaiming themselves as royalty in the animal kingdom. And yet, they are peaceful herbivores. Gentle rulers. Shy of attention.
We spied the donor of the wool on our way back down. He was a tricky little fellow. He must have scampered out of sight to let us pass. When I looked back upslope after my friend, I spotted him chewing the cud, shaking his tail, and kicking his back hoof idiosyncratically. I mentally thanked him for letting us climb his mountain that day.