The chirping of birds in the morning brought to Sierra's attention that it was spring. She paused in the middle of her breakfast for a moment before continuing to eat. For a miner, seasons mattered very little. The riches of the earth were consistent and dependable, not subject to the fickle whims of the weather. Some might argue that locating rich ore veins was more of a gamble than planting crops or raising animals, but Sierra paid such people no heed. When she had finished her breakfast, Sierra stepped out of the simple wooden shack at the base of the mountain that she called home. It was 5:30AM and still cool and crisp. Hoisting her pickaxe, she headed into the mine, ready for a long day's work.