As the road narrowed, travelers felt not only that they were venturing deeper into the mountains, but also deeper into the drought.
At the start of their journey, near the Tobide River basin—the only muddy-yellow river around—they could still see a few scattered, stunted trees dotting the mountainsides. But for the past week, they hadn't seen a single tree taller than their heads.
By the end of the journey, or at least what Kraft and William considered the end, vegetation had grown so sparse that it couldn't even choke the rarely used road. They could make out the path clearly in the setting sun.
William had been eager to set out at dawn, but they still ended up traveling until sunset.
Rocks frequently blocked the road. After one nearly snapped an axle, Peter no longer dared to take the sharp mountain turns at speed. He stopped dutifully every time and called on the male passengers to help push the obstacles aside.
The rocks clearly weren't man-made. Similar stones were scattered across the slopes on both sides, probably rolled down from higher up.
At first, Kraft assumed the stones had come loose because there weren't enough plant roots to hold the soil in place. But as they continued their journey, he noticed something didn't add up. The rocks were unevenly distributed across the mountains. Some stretches were densely packed, piled high in the valleys, while others had hardly any.
Perhaps by coincidence, whenever they looked uphill from just the right angle, they could usually spot a round, dark hollow among the vegetation on the upper slopes, directly opposite the scattered rocks.
Their journey, alternating between riding and backbreaking labor, hit an impasse that evening. Several boulders were jammed across the road. They hadn't completely blocked it, but they left no room