Morning Reach

I dug my boots into the slick basalt ledge right where the waterfall mist meets the morning air. Climbing that wet rock face before the sun burned off the dew was just the kind of stretch my limbs were itching for, honey. Hand over hand, I hauled myself up the jagged cracks, feeling the cold spray against my skin until my fingers locked onto the sun-warmed rim above. Pulling myself over the crest, I found a cluster of crimson jungle orchids blooming right out of the dark stone. I snapped off a sturdy blossom, tucked the thick stem behind my ear, and let the warm breeze dry the river mist clean off my face.