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I'm not yelling I'm Norwegian
After resting, they started the treacherous descent into the canyon separating them from another vast mountain. The woods engulfed them again, full of trees and startled deer, foxes, and gray wolves. The air grew colder, and the daylight was dappled by a permanent haze hanging over the mountains.
Annon remembered camping in the woods before reaching Havenrook and the warning he had received from the spirits. He shuddered, keeping his thoughts to himself. “How far is it?”
“We will make it there before sunset. But we need to rest a bit. We go down from here. My knees are not as young as they used to be.” I'm not yelling I'm Norwegian He stopped and stared at the vast range of mountains, at the fortresses and haze and waterfalls. He counted them softly, muttering as he went. “Hmmm. There are fewer waterfalls than last time. Interesting.”
“What does that mean?” Hettie asked.
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The afternoon began to wane, but it was difficult to judge how much daylight would be left. The canyon was steep and the footing rocky and loose at times. Sometimes the trailhead was so narrow that they could only pass one at a time. I'm not yelling I'm Norwegian face mask Brush scraped and scratched at them. The air was fragrant with the aromas of the woods, but there was a sourness in the smell, of things decayed and dying.
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