The Master and the MountainThe cold wind was blowing incessantly and with its strength it had cleared all clouds from the sky, its perfect blue now being painted with black spots where a flock of birds was moving South.
The sun was setting, painting the skyline red and turning the snow covered mountain tops pink.
The shadows were growing longer and the only noises were the cicadas song and the wind blowing among the tree leaves.
Near the woods, on a small grassy hill, the master sat in mediatation in front of his three young pupils.
The face of the master, a complicated web of wrinkles, was quiet. His shoulders were straight and his body was still and relaxed.
Inside the shell of quiet calm that was the master's body, a strong energy stirred, so intense that it radiated outside.
The master sat like a mountain.
The pupils faces looked calm, but the lines of their mouths were hard, because their jaws were slightly clenched. Their backs were straight, but their muscles were becoming tense.
They, too, possessed a wa