i thought she might wake up and warn me not to go on the mission again ; she was so adamant about it the night before . that 's how it had happened over and over again that summer when , drunk with wine , she had walked back and forth before it , losing the picture , then recovering it : the mountain , the forest , a tiny village nestled in the green valley below . well , why not add it to my list of three impossible things to do before going home ? 