Finally, he reached a clearing in the vapor. Standing there was a small figure, her back to him, staring out at a horizon where the sun was beginning to burn through the haze, turning the white world into a sea of liquid gold.
His boot didn't find the abyss. Instead, it met a surface that felt like packed wool and cold silk. It gave slightly under his weight, then held. He took another step, then another, walking straight out into the white nothingness. A Walk In The Clouds
He headed back to the village, no longer walking away from the clouds, but waiting for the next time they decided to descend. Finally, he reached a clearing in the vapor
He looked down at his hands. They were still the hands of a stonemason, but tucked into his palm was a small, perfectly round pebble—not made of granite or flint, but of a white, translucent stone that felt as light as air. Instead, it met a surface that felt like