The sun pierced Up's eyelids as it first peered over the top of the trees on the horizon. He rose from the cave floor and stretched his arms and back. He picked up his goat-fur blanket and tied it about his shoulders and tossed Down's spear and his pack on to his back. Up bent down and picked up his spear, and exited the cave.
The rocks were damp and cold beneath his feet, and the air felt chilled. Fortunately, the wind from the previous night had blown many of the loose rocks down the hill, and so Up's climb was much easier. He traversed the terrain much quicker, and without slipping and tripping as much as he had. By early afternoon, he could see the top.
The mountain's top was a tall, sharp pointed rock, on top of which was a circular weaving of twigs, brush and branches: the golden eagle's nest. From where Up stood, it appeared the eagle was away from the nest, and so he decided to seize the opportunity. Up shimmied up the stone spire as fast he could and climbed into the huge nest.
Within the walls of the massive mess of sticks, tufts of old fur and dried up skeletons laid scattered about. Up scanned around the grim scene, and his eyes landed on a fresh-looking pile of white-furred remains. Next to the carcass was a familiar, albeit tattered, pack filled with rations.
The carcass belonged to Down.
Up crumbled to his knees and cried tears of anguish and rage. Trembling, he removed Down's spear from his back. A spear in each hand, he moved to shadowy corner of the nest and waited. Finally, after what seemed to Up to be an eternity of suspense, a huge shadow passed across the sun.