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WILD HONEY — AT THE MOUNTAIN PASS (1990?) People always crossed the pass in silence—not out of fear, but to hear the wind. In winter, all landmarks disappeared: snow, rocks, and sky became one, and the road no longer felt like a road. Sometimes, a steady, gentle glow appeared ahead, as if the snow were reflecting a distant fire. But when they came closer, there was only emptiness—and tracks leading away from the path instead of along it. Disclaimer: A work of fiction.
