Mudminnow River we are the greatest pretenders

For @Scimitar, if you have the time! <3

Day broke crisp and cool, and damp. Mordecai had opted to follow the streams leading out of the hollow and to the north, eager to explore a little before the majority of the world around him had stirred to the morning light. A low fog clung to the grasslands had he went north and for a change he found himself captured by the unfamiliarity of the place around him. There was something familiar about it, though not by any visual means. The familiarity he felt was that of a sensation, a long boarded up wonder that he had kept under lock and key for the better part of the year.

As the ground shifted to some sort of smooth granite beneath him, Mordecai reveled in the way the landscape unfurled ahead of him. The river broadened and seemed still, its flow so idle that beneath the gaze of a rising sun it may as well have been a sun-kissed piece of glass. It would not have surprised if this patch of land did not freeze over come winter, and as he entered the smooth waters to wade across he wondered if they too, would be as easily crossed.

Some few minutes later, he was nestled in the crook of the river as it bent around the varied terrain. Settling into the tall grasses and reeds there, he crept past unsuspecting water fowl in his pursuit onward. For the most part, he found that Harlyn had not followed him; his solitude was a welcome one to his surprise. And so he continued on, once more following the river where the rise in the land gave him overlook of it and of its breadth.

bastille — get home