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An Assault On Edna St. Vincent Millay
Several of the more experienced ones are gathered around a table where previous assaults are on display. They sip coffee, murmuring to each other, pointing out possible lines of attack, previous successes and slips.
Some are quieter in their preparations. They sit in corners, polishing their gear, winding up their lines, hands moving methodically, eyes gazing into the distance.
Younger folk pace up and down the floor, shuffling reams of paper, muttering under their breath, searching for a new and truly innovative assault.
A group of guides waits in the corner, guarding the maps to the territory, watching this new group of assaulters with an old disdain. They have seen them dare. They have seen them fall. The mountain still stands.
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