He holds himself precariously between the three mountains. At this point, he can still touch all three at the same time, but the time has come for him to choose.
He has been at this level for what feels like eternity. His right arm tenses as it pushes against the rocks. His legs bend and flex as they push against his arm, trying to keep the balance without overpowering it. His left hand wields a spyglass, and with a strain he turns his neck to gaze up at his choice.
From where he is, all three mountains look exactly the same. They project out at the same points. They have the same places where the stones look unsteady, ready for overeager climbers to meet their downfall. They have the same caves, places for the climber to find rest or to give up and decide to go back down the mountain. And from where he is, he cannot see what awaits him at the top of any of the three.
The hour grows late. The time approaches. And he must make a choice.
Duty. Desire. Adventure.
He puts the spyglass away, takes his breath, and climbs.