Not the TV show, not a "crying," but a great, searing gash in the landscape. Something out of Tolkien or a post-apocolyptic movie filmed with white-out heat.
After three days' climb, they crested the hill, only to face the jag, a red-dirt gash in the landscape that separated the brown lands - which they'd been trudging across for days - and the green places they had glimpsed before only in happier dreams.
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