(eng) Neil Mosspark by South of the Spire

Author:South of the Spire [Spire, South of the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Afternoon on Day 265 in year 53 of the Spire

We have set up the second fire of the day next to the river in order to eat a midday meal and warm ourselves. The snow continues to fall but barely has covered anything. Mostly it sticks to the rocks and trees for a moment before melting into a dripping mess that collects onto the wet dirt of the forest floor stirring up a clay like mud which binds to our feet if we stray onto low lying ground.

We had alternated between traveling along the slippery rocks of the river's edge and pushing through thorny forest underbrush. As the rivers edge is only now just become passable, it where we find ourselves.

The river has dropped away into the depths of a rising cliff wall on either side. We find ourselves atop the western side. Earlier I sat near the edge of the river's chasm and looked across trying to identify anything that might be of note, but for the most part, it appears the mirror image of this side.

Traveling at times can be dangerous. The flat stone along the cliff top is slick with melted snow, and at times becomes thin and we must travel close to the edges.

Ray had earlier been traveling near the rocky edge, comfortable with the heights. This went on for some time until he caught his toe on a rock, tripping. He kept his feet, stumbled for a few steps but almost waivered over the edge. He would have disappeared from sight into the churning abyss, never to be seen again. Since then he has skirted the treeline more tightly.

As for the river itself, it appears that there are explanations as to why no one returns from rafting downstream from the Citadel. If this is indeed the downstream portion of the river northwest of the Citadel, it is likely that any traveler would become trapped in the white water and perish. The walls on either side of the river drop dozens of feet and are impassible for the most part. Only rarely do areas appear which might allow a person to climb up if they were wrecked against the rocks.

It would be easy to be caught between the walls and crushed against boulders hidden under the fast water. Even from this height the roar of the river is loud.

Nothing could survive its power.

I am trying to map as we go while the others squabble about which way to travel next. I keep my opinions to myself. Silently I am hoping that we can find a place to cross. Despite the dangers, my own exhaustion and the change in the weather, I am more interested in what lies just outside of our reach on the other bank of the river.

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