“Getting old,” the mountain grumbled. It had been sitting in place for thousands of years. Weather had eroded its face, so that it was pockmarked and worn. Snow capped its head, while trees adorned its feet.
“Time to go for a walk,” it rumbled to itself. It lifted its head, and boulders fell from its crown onto its shoulders, tumbling to the depths at its feet. Its movements were slow, laborious. It was a mountain, after all, and it hadn’t moved in such a very long time.
The base of the mountain cracked open just then, and the mountain’s feet stretched out over several miles, tearing great furrows into the valley adjacent to it. Then it retracted its feet, pulling them up underneath its tremendous bulk. With a terrible crash and thunderous wave of earth and rock, the mountain heaved itself up onto its feet. The mountain now stood taller than any of its companions. It tottered for several very long moments, uncertain as it was of its footing. Then it raised one foot up, swung it forward, and placed it down again several miles from its starting point.
“Hoom,” the mountain thundered, as it leaned heavily into its first step. The earth around it trembled as the enormous mass began to haul itself across the landscape. It placed one terrific foot in front of the other, and it crossed the ground in great strides. In its wake, it left cavernous footprints behind. Those depressions would later fill up with water to become new lakes, which would support all kinds of wildlife. For now, though, its progress was terrible and almost cataclysmic.
“Getting old,” the mountain groaned once more. It didn’t move the way it once did when it was a lowly hill. Time and tectonic pressure had forced it to grow and age and mature, and now it lumbered ever so slowly across the face of the land.
Finally, the mountain found a new place to settle, away from the other mountains, away from just about everything. It settled into its new home, a deafening crash echoing across the landscape as it dropped once more to the ground. The mountain its feet in, tucking them up underneath its great bulk. It settled its head back into place as it prepared for another long sleep.
“Getting old,” the mountain repeated, “but we will grow older still.” Then it closed its eyes and fell asleep.
