The Floodlands awara hoon

onward, aditya.

a voice in his subconscious—or was it hari himself?—spurred him ahead. he descended from mount everfall into the sodden wetlands, stepping carefully through the mosquito-infested place in search of higher ground. it was miserable, here; hot weather and summer rain had created a buggy nightmare.

for a moment, he wondered if it was better to submerge himself in the muddy water as pharaoh had done to keep away the biting pests. he sniffed the fetid water and thought better of it, and soon found himself traipsing a more pleasant and established river.

a river—and there were fish!

it had been a while since aditya had tried his paw at fishing, but he sat on the bank and watched the shallows studiously, waiting for one of them to wander too close to his muzzle. a moment. . .then a moment more. . .

he shoved his head beneath the water, hoping for luck.