our faces flushed with cold , hands pressed deep inside riding jackets for warmth , the leather rough and comforting against numb , frozen fingers , we stood glancing at each other and the fog , staring at something that gave us no definition , until a sudden gust of wind collected all the fog and pushed it away , or perhaps it was the mountain sighing with nostalgia , but it was as if the white curtains had been pulled apart to reveal natures extravagant display of the emerald kemmangundi valley sprawled beneath us .