Whitefish River And horror in the halls of stone

In all honesty, Mal wasn't sure if he was going to make it back at exactly a month.  And he was also not entirely sure how the hell he was going to cross the mountains, since he wasn't counting in time for going the long way around.  There had to be a way, but at least from where he stood now at the banks of the river, the mountains didn't look passable.  They were just huge.

Even the river itself was a bit of a challenge.  Mal paced on the banks, staring at the swiftly moving water.  He needed to cross it, but the meltwater had swollen it to high levels.  Would he have to go back upstream?  Maybe there was a conveniently-placed fallen tree for him to cross over.  The water itself was dark and murky from the silt dredged up by the current, and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to take the risk of venturing out into it in these unfamiliar grounds.  One way or another, though, he had to get back to Elysium and keep his promise -- then he could continue his quest again.