Alan tipped his glass and tasted the whisky, swirling it around his mouth warming his tongue and soothing his throat as he swallowed, leaving a sympho...ic explosion of tastes and flavours of both warmth and honeyed notes on his taste buds.“Wow!” Alan exclaimed, “That is amazing. Last bottle left, huh?”“Yes, sir.” Henry confirmed, “Less than 600 bottles produced, distilled in 1971, nineteen years before I was even born!”“And I was only six years old then, myself,” Alan laughed.Henry finished his. As the first tendrils of sunlight began to spread their fingers across the mountaintop, Running Deer shed the last remnants of his clothing. Naked, he began the arduous journey up the mountain towards the meadow of his fathers. He walked slowly, steadily up the mountain. Looking back, he could not see a trail, but looking ahead he could see one easily. ‘How is this possible?’ he wondered. ‘Any fool could find his way to the meadow if this is indeed the right path.’ ‘Ah…but can anyone ever find. More

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