Totoka River There is no sorrow like the memory of love and the knowledge that it is gone forever

@Andronika

It was not long before he was on his feet, and with the girl at his side, moving through the new land. The rain came to a gradual stop as they  headed away from the coast and towards a twisting river; although it could be said it was more of an easement, for the percipitation thinned but did not abate entirely. Like the sense of loss that plagued him.

Eventually he sought to be alone — to think, reflect, and mourn. After promising to reunite with the darling girl should he be in need again, he set off through the wilderness on an easterly path. Before long the river's roaring could be heard, and he followed the sound of it until finding a chasm in the earth where it existed.

The edge of the river was irregular and rocky, with many trees to block his path, or roots pulling on the clay-heavy soil. It took time, but eventually the man found a route down to the fresh water's edge. He did not drink at first. Rather, he looked upon himself reflected in the quicksilver depths — seeing his face reflected with irregularity, as if by a broken mirror.

After a minute or two he dipped his head and drank.