It would edge up the mountain with determination, slowly, convincingly.
The young and the old could see it
making its way to the summit, teeth clenched, brow furrowed.
They would all applaud once the task was complete, for it was an overwhelming, tremendous task. Those watching it climb did not know how it would descend down the mountain afterwards, for the path was too jagged.
Perhaps, it would catapult into the ocean or break itself on the jagged cliffs,
or just maybe there would be enough determination and audacity left for it to
trek down, just the way it did up.
So the young and the old watched it move
higher and higher, into the clouds, until it was no longer visible.
Once it arrived, up in the clouds, it could see the valley on the other side, the orchards and the plenty, so it simply rolled down the mountain into the dale.
On its way down, the young and the old laughed and ran along with it. They could not see its struggle and his accomplishment from before, just like those left on the other side could not now see its joy.

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