It was a nice swamp. Despite the swarming mosquitoes, the squelching muck and the looming, twisted trees, he had to admit it had a certain charm. The warm water spiraled away from his hooves in eddies, and every slight disturbance in the water frightened away groups of tiny fry, that would zip away into the murk, their scales iridescent in the water. The first time he saw this, he watched them, fascinated by their speed and the way the sunlight played off their slick bodies.
He breathed in - the air was soft and warm, and it seemed to press on his lungs and leave a slimy feeling in the back of his throat. He had never felt anything like it. He paused, inhaling deeply once more, the musky aroma of rotting foliage tickling against his nostrils. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation. Then, a light wind gusted between the forestry, and the diamond of his pendant rattled against his jugular.
Recalling he was here for more than simple sightseeing, Kaladin took up his undertaking once more at a lax pace, climbing out of the swamp onto a patch of earth, then back down into the cool waters. This was the kind of place witches were found, he mused as he sauntered on. He'd learned that that witches and the magical folk had a tendency to favor eccentric places such as these. After all, they must have some spells against the damn bugs. He shook his mane, dispelling a pair of gnats that had taken an interest in top of his neck. If it weren't for the cursed collar, he would have simply vaporised the pets. But instead, he was forced to endure.
Soon, however, he was habituated to the nuisance. The trees began to grow denser, their creaking bark becoming pock-marked and lined with fungi of various medicinal properties. He was tempted to pause and examine them, but it was not the time - there were greater things at stake, and it seemed like he was closer than ever. Indeed, with the deeper, muskier quality taken on by the ancient groves, his eyes began to glimmer with expectation. It was dark here, with only the occasional patches of sun piercing through the trees to lighten the dark evergreen. A jay screamed above, and something scampered overhead. He did not pause, however, until he emerged out of the forestry into a small clearing, ringed by willows bowed with age. In the center rose an obsidian obelisk, it’s peak gleaming high above the tree-crowns. It was carved with intricate runing – a language he recognized from five-hundred years past. He could make out vague meaning in the etchings – it was a prayer to some obscure deity.
Before he had the time to begin considering the prayer’s meaning and decide if it was linked to the relic of his questing, another shape entered the clearing. Kaladin immediately shrunk back, weaving himself between the boughs of two ancient boughs and peering out from between their thick foliage. It was a black mare, skin marked with specks like stars, not quite unlike the obelisk herself. A witch? Kaladin thought immediately. He would wait and see – it was possible this peculiar mortal might hold the key to translating the obelisk, and finding the relic thereof.
He breathed in - the air was soft and warm, and it seemed to press on his lungs and leave a slimy feeling in the back of his throat. He had never felt anything like it. He paused, inhaling deeply once more, the musky aroma of rotting foliage tickling against his nostrils. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation. Then, a light wind gusted between the forestry, and the diamond of his pendant rattled against his jugular.
Recalling he was here for more than simple sightseeing, Kaladin took up his undertaking once more at a lax pace, climbing out of the swamp onto a patch of earth, then back down into the cool waters. This was the kind of place witches were found, he mused as he sauntered on. He'd learned that that witches and the magical folk had a tendency to favor eccentric places such as these. After all, they must have some spells against the damn bugs. He shook his mane, dispelling a pair of gnats that had taken an interest in top of his neck. If it weren't for the cursed collar, he would have simply vaporised the pets. But instead, he was forced to endure.
Soon, however, he was habituated to the nuisance. The trees began to grow denser, their creaking bark becoming pock-marked and lined with fungi of various medicinal properties. He was tempted to pause and examine them, but it was not the time - there were greater things at stake, and it seemed like he was closer than ever. Indeed, with the deeper, muskier quality taken on by the ancient groves, his eyes began to glimmer with expectation. It was dark here, with only the occasional patches of sun piercing through the trees to lighten the dark evergreen. A jay screamed above, and something scampered overhead. He did not pause, however, until he emerged out of the forestry into a small clearing, ringed by willows bowed with age. In the center rose an obsidian obelisk, it’s peak gleaming high above the tree-crowns. It was carved with intricate runing – a language he recognized from five-hundred years past. He could make out vague meaning in the etchings – it was a prayer to some obscure deity.
Before he had the time to begin considering the prayer’s meaning and decide if it was linked to the relic of his questing, another shape entered the clearing. Kaladin immediately shrunk back, weaving himself between the boughs of two ancient boughs and peering out from between their thick foliage. It was a black mare, skin marked with specks like stars, not quite unlike the obelisk herself. A witch? Kaladin thought immediately. He would wait and see – it was possible this peculiar mortal might hold the key to translating the obelisk, and finding the relic thereof.
