The land was bare and cold. The snow rolled along to the east and on each dune cumulated like the wax of a white candle. As the sun began to set on the horizon, Moon and Red climbed the icy steps of the tuurngait’s abode. Above them, frozen towers stretched up into the sky, forming the bulk of the endless glacier.
“Moon, friend. Climb faster,” Red said in his deep, husky voice, “our journey is ending.”
Moon wheezed and huffed as he lolled up the blue ice steps, rasping out the words, “We still have to get back to the village, bro.”
“The stairs are ending,” Red said as he reached the top, admiring the large golden doors which climbed as tall as a mammoth. Red smiled, “we have made it.”
“Oh, finally,” Moon said, collapsing at the top of the climb and rolling around on the ice.
“Get up you fool.”
Moon waited until he caught his breath and finally stood when he decided not to be stubborn. He shouted over the whistling wind, “How do you suppose we get those doors open?”
Almost directly on cue the doors violently flung open, cracking hard on the glacier walls and breaking some of the icy golden hinges clean in half. Moon reeled back, tripping down the stairs. His ungracefully fat body wiggled and jiggled until he stabilized, then he composed himself on his hands and knees, looking up at the doors.
“More climbing?” he cried, slamming his fist down.
“We don’t have time to complain,” Red said solemnly. “To the tuurngait, we go.”
Moon met him inside the chamber. It was dark but they could still see far through the bright blue hollowed interior. They took three steps in when two rows of inglenooks lit up alongside the halls. At that, fountains of water began spewing through the roof, flowing under rivers carved throughout the room’s floor. Around the rivers were a set of icy fences that led all the way to a golden throne.