Part 13

For miles in every direction, the land surrounding the town was flat and featureless.

Except for The Hill.

The Hill was an irregular, elongated blister on the southeastern edge of town. The town's only real landmark cleanly separated the uncannily fertile farmland from the dry expanse of the wasteland beyond. The side closest to town was steep almost to the point of being vertical.

No one climbed it.

Not for fun.

Not for a challenge.

Fortunately... for some.... climbing was completely unnecessary. The far side of the Hill was as smooth downward slope that supported a few shriveled shrubs, some skeletal trees, and patches of light grass barely thicker than their cousins in the wasteland. It was suitable for walking and, if the sun was just right, the very faint broken remains of an ancient trail could be seen meandering down the slope toward the level ground below.

To say that no one walked that faded trail or went to the far side of the Hill would be wrong.

People did walk the trail.

People did venture to the far side of The Hill... on specific occasions... with a specific purpose.

Mostly, however, people only went to the top... and no further. They reached the summit via a second, much steeper and straighter path trail that began at the souther corner and ran up the rounded "spine" of the Hill to a wide flat space at the top, where it merged with the remains of the faint path leading down the far side.

Those few who came to the Hill, went to the flattened summit where, once they caught their breath, they could see the entirety of the town to one side and behold the dry 'beauty' of the wasteland on the other.

...and yet, no one came there to enjoy the view. They came for more practical reasons. From the top of the Hill, a watcher could spot trade caravans when those were in season and unwelcome strangers when they weren't. They could see campfires out in the waste, and spot odd goings-on in the nearer parts of town when such watching was needed... which, occasionally, it was. Fathers took their sons to the top of the Hill to explain certain things; the sharp contrast between the fertile farmland the empty desert helped accent particular concepts that would otherwise be difficult to accept. Thus, the Hill was a place that innocence ended. It was also a place of remembrance; the town's cemetery stretched conspicuously below the almost-sheer face of the Hill's closest side. To be on the near side of the Hill was to be remembered... perhaps fondly, perhaps not, but remembered nonetheless.

And it was more than just a trick of the words that to be on the FAR side meant something else entirely.