Four

The rusty metal walkway clattered as her shoes skipped along. Her skin tingled from the crisp alpine air and she breathed in deeply, exhilerated by the coldness. All around was the beautiful, squat landscape of the high country. Life everywhere was hardy, thick and hugging low to the land; clinging for life against unforgiving elements. Flannel flowers sprouted up against lichen covered boulders, and great thick snow gums grew twisted out of thick scrub, rainbow trunks freshly stripped of bark. A stream bubbled along, bolstered by freshly melted snow, while sunlight skipped and sparkled across crystalline waters.

As they drew nearer to the stream, she itched to take her socks and shoes off and dip her toes in the water. To her delight, they veered off the track, through the scrub to sit on the boulders around the stream. Her father put the backpack on the ground with a thud and sat to rifle through it. She found a small boulder, just her size, and began working at her shoes. First the laces, then the rubber soled shoes slipped off her heels. She tossed them aside. Her socks came flying off, disappearing into scratchy little shrubs. Her warm toes reveled in the shock of cold air and their new found freedom, before she trotted across the pebbles and rocks around the stream. 

The water was as biting and crisp as she had imagined and grinning with joy, she crouched down to scoop some water into her mouth. When she stood up she felt a sodden sensation around her ankles and arms. The water was creeping up her corduroy pants. She hastily stepped out of the stream to take those off too. Off came her coat, then the other layers, sleeves dripping with water. She did not notice the bemusement of her traveling party as she leapt back into the stream in her knickers, free of all that stiff, constricting fabric. The shock of ice cold water took her breath away, but the intoxication of splashing made her forget. Tiny little fish swam in schools, darting away as she clumsily tried to catch them, her feet tripping on pebbles. 

When her skin rose into little goosebumps and the sunlight no longer warmed away the cold she clambered out of her stream to eat her lunch. The tiny fish continued to dart around, unaware of her less than graceful exit. Her mother helped her back into her layers of warm clothes, rolling up the damp cuffs of her pants and tops, rubbing her frozen child's fingers with the warmth of her own, more sensible hands.

As they returned to the rusted metal walkway, the sunlight continued to dance across the surface of her stream, the fresh breeze whistled past, and the echo of the alpine country was forevermore etched upon her soul.