The Hierarchy of Mountain Gods

Walk into any landscape that's bigger and more powerful than you are—any mountain, any ocean, any desert, any forest dark enough to remind you that you're not actually in control—and boots up.

You’re walking an Alpine trail, hours from any village, when you find it: a wooden cross wrapped in weathered ribbons. Or a tiny shrine built into a boulder, half-hidden by moss. Sometimes there’s a saint’s name carved into the stone. Sometimes there’s nothing Christian about it at all—just a pile of rocks, an offering of work gloves, a rusted ice axe leaning against granite.

The Small Gods: Specialists in Survival

Let’s start with the bottom tier. The immediate problems.

You need to cross a swollen river from snowmelt. There’s a saint for that—San Cristoforo, who carries you across. You need good weather for the harvest. San Grato handles climate. Each danger has its specialist, its negotiator, its minor deity who understands that specific terror.

This is transactional faith. Pure do ut des—I give so that you give. I light a candle, I say the prayer, I make the offering. You, Saint, do your job.

And here’s the crucial part: if the saint fails, the contract is void.

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