The trail took them in switchbacks up the steep side of a valley. It leveled out on a ridge with a cinemascope view of the village below them and the mountains guarding it.

Jake stopped, with Adriana and Art close behind him. Rashid and the Meiers had fallen behind and were nowhere to be seen.

Even though surrounded by frozen water, Art felt parched. He fished a water bottle from one of his bib's numerous pockets. It was from Gigi's shop and had set him back by another five Tavetian francs.

The latecomers arrived, all three of them puffing.

"This is Redrock Ridge," said Jake.

"Awesome," Rashid was panting heavily.

"Now, the official path continues down that way." Jake pointed to the right, where the purple stakes descended into the next valley. "It goes down into Wildwater Gorge and then turns back to Oberippenberg... about an hour's walk. There's an alternative, though, but it's a little longer." Jake stopped, and his last words hung in the air like a playful monkey—a teasing, grinning primate displaying a row of impressive teeth.

"Tell me about it." Adriana took the bait.

"Hm... we could walk up along the ridge now. That would take us to Redrock Peak. It's a walk of about 45 minutes. The view from up there is incredible."

"I'd love to do that," Adriana said without hesitation.

"I think my mom and I would rather go down and have a cuppa in one of the restaurants." Ralph's roundish face was flushed, and pearls of sweat glittered in his brow. "But you guys can go up there if you want... we'll wait for you in the village."

"I'll join the coffee group," Rashid said. "To be honest..." he grinned. "... I've had enough uphill for one day."

Jake nodded. "Well, we could split... You can't miss the trail down to the village. Just follow the stakes and the signs." He looked at Art. "What about you?"

Art eyed the path leading into the gorge. He did feel his legs, but he wasn't exhausted. The prospect of some more uphill walking didn't daunt him, but the main question was who of his neighbors he wanted to prod with questions.

His male intuition decided on Jake. "I'll come up to the peak with you."

"Great!" Jake looked happy. Then he gave the Meiers directions to a coffee bar near the cable car station where they would meet again.

After they had bidden their farewells, Jake took the lead towards Redrock Peak.

The peak wasn't really a peak. Rather, it was almost flat at its top. A metal cross at least twice Art's height stood patient guard on it.

"Here we are." Jake took off his backpack to place it at the foot of the cross.

They had the world, literally, at their feet. Most of it, at least—the endless sea of fog to the north, lower mountains to the west. There were higher peaks in the south and to the east, with untouched flanks of sheer white and rocky black. The village was hidden from where they stood. It was just them, and the brilliant landscape under a flawless sky. And complete silence.

A shiver ran down Art's spine. He didn't consider himself to be a deeply religious man, but this felt like an appropriate place for setting up that cross, or a Buddha, a mosque, a take-a-break-sign, or whatever, depending on your persuasion—some token reminding you to enjoy the world's beauty.

"Wasn't this worth the effort?" Jake's words were quiet but distinct.

Art nodded.

"So, let's celebrate." The man bent down to open his backpack and retrieved a small bottle. "This is a gipfel wine." He handed it to Art. "Unscrew it, please."

While Art studied the bottle in utter surprise—a local white wine—Jake pulled a stack of transparent plastic cups from his pack. 

"Gipfel wine?" Art opened the cap and handed the wine back.

"Yeah, it's a tradition. When you're on the gipfel... the top of the mountain... you open a bottle of wine." Jake filled the first cup and gave it to Adriana, the second one to Art, and kept the third one for himself. "Here's to nature's beauty." He held up his drink.

"To nature's beauty," Adriana echoed.

The wine was cool, light and refreshing.

Art decided to postpone his prodding of Jake until after the wine—the alcohol might loosen the man's tongue.

"This is so wild," Adriana said.

They were sitting in the snow around the cross and were ogling the view. Art's cup wasn't empty yet, but the wine had already established a pleasant buzz in his head. Jake and Adriana were into their second servings.

"This isn't a wilderness," Jake waved his wine at the mountains, spilling some of it. "It just looks like one, with all that snow. In summer, much of it is alps with grazing cows. And, there, do you see that snowfield below the peak that looks a bit like the Matterhorn?"

Art studied the white snowfields below the pointed mountain that Jake had identified. It took him a moment to recognize a small building and tiny, colored dots moving around it. "There are people."

Jake nodded. "Exactly. That's the start of one of the larger ski runs here. So, you see, it's not really a wilderness, is it?"

Art shrugged. "It's wild enough for me. If something were to happen... we'd be on our own."

Adriana giggled at this, for no apparent reason.

Jake held up his wrist and inspected the massive metal watch hanging there—its knobs, screws, and scales glittered and gleamed in the sun and reminded Art of the display of expensive timepieces in the shop. "It's about time to start our descent." Jake got up and pointed a finger towards the valley that the others had disappeared into. "We can walk down this slope here, it'll take us to the upper end of the gorge. There's a road from there that goes all the way back to the village."

Art rose to stand beside Jake and to inspect the slope. He took one step back. "Er... it's steep."

"You'll be fine. It's like skiing." Jake motioned into the abyss, his hands making smooth left and right turns like a skier slaloming downhill. "There's nothing more efficient to lose altitude than a slope like this. And it's great fun."

"Won't we trigger some... avalanche?"

"Naw. That thing isn't steep enough." He pushed his pole into the ground and pulled it back. "And the snow is firm... it has settled. It won't fracture into slabs or form an avalanche. Relax."

Jake's pole had released a small snowball, which now hopped and tumbled downhill, quickly gaining mass and momentum.

———

A/N: Some brief notes:

I've split up this chapter in two because WP does a poor job at synching reading positions across different devices when chapters are long.

Dedicated to @StevenBrandt for a great idea that made its way into the first part of this chapter

The Egg At Dumstreet has just scored first place of Mystery/Thrillers and second overall in the Iron Lace awards over at @ElisabethTepes profile. 😀😀😀