Cornelius Shrub was a man who had done it before.
As he looked up the dark chocolate incline, already spilling from the top with only the slightest of breezes, the sunbeams slicing over the apex, he knew he had to attempt it once again.
He took a moment to warm his muscles.
The last thing he needed was to seize up inches from the top. The next chance wouldn’t be for weeks and he knew it.
He inhaled deeply to calm his washing machine mind.
He could feel his heart pumping for all its worth in his chest.
He flexed his calves…back and forth…secured the backpack in place…back and forth…and then…bolted towards the precarious slope!
His feet sinking into the moving hill, like he was running up an arterial blood soaked sandy cliff.
He reached halfway in no time, but, on noting his position, his chest ached with the strain of what had passed and what was to come.
He gritted his teeth.
He had to finish.