“I’ll be. I barely know you and I already know you’re a terrible liar.” Polar laughed. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of ponies.” In truth, Khuuramch Pass, as the yaks called it, wasn’t a pass at all. It was a very prominent notch in this part of the Crystal Mountains, easily visible and quite inviting from both sides. Once you approached it from the south, though, you were in for a nasty surprise: a cliff, eighty degrees steep in some cases, rising hundreds of feet from the ground and not easily recognizable as such from a distance. Coming from the north was even nastier, since you couldn’t see just how steep the cliff was until you were on top of it and almost completely through the notch, forcing you to turn back. With the exception of a few travelers a year, ponies trekking through the mountains turned around and found an easier way. Polar clicked her tongue and nodded back the way she’d come. “It’s getting dark, so let’s get inside. C’mon. My house ain’t far.” A gust of wind made her tug her coat closer to her. “And stay away from the edge, will ya?”