[Running,
Running,
head-butt Vikram,
and hoists him onto its back.]
"Moras, my baby," while patting gently over it.
{Moris, a sixteen-foot massive white polar bear.}
"Moras, my boy, there's no time! Take me to Rdour!"
Moras rears up with a thunderous roar, then surges off to the right.
"Very good! Run, Moras, run!" he laughs.
{Vikram dangled from Moras's fur, clutching his hat in his right hand.}
Despite the fog, Moras charged ahead with flawless precision at 85 kilometres per hour.
{Moras charges through the fog as if it isn't there.}
In just three minutes, Moras had already covered two and a half kilometres and was now beginning to climb the mountain.
{The mountain which is 2.5 km high, Slightly vertical—not made of rock or snow, but frozen water.}
Since snow couldn't remain on that watery mountain—everything slid off—it looked perfectly clean and transparent, like frozen water gleaming clear as glass.
Moras's claws—three inches long—dug in at sixty kilometers an hour, hauling them up the sheer face. As they climbed higher, the mist thinned and vanished;
Above, the sky was perfectly clear—bathed in sunlight and swept by wind.
Moras reached the top of the mountain in just two and a half minutes. At the summit, there was a flat stretch of ground.
He dismounts, sets his hat on, and strokes Moras's forelimb. "Moras, my son — excellent work. Thank you. You've always been here, watching over everything."
{Surrounded on all sides by mountains of glacial ice, a massive plume of steam was erupting from their midst with tremendous force.}