Dragoncrest Cliffs The Abyss

The pair made it across the lowlands of Sapphique. Outside the borders sat the flat dale wedged between Ankyra Sound and the Tangle. In the distance, the dark shadow of the ravine’s path could be seen.

Njord scuffed his paws and kicked at the snow, leaving his scent on the border. Etienne marked too. The flash of his cinnamon belage reminded the seafarer of his grandmother, Erzulie.

With their perimeter reinforced, Njord gestured for the lad to follow.

“That’s right, lad,” he affirmed. “If tha sea is tha heart, then tha river is her veins. Its wise tae keep a healthy respect for her waters,” the man advised.

Njord thought about a memory long ago. “She can be calm an' deliver life. Or fierce… and carry earth away. One time there was a great storm, and the river swelled higher than any had ever seen. Tha banks gave way an’ crumbled. Yer aunt Mireille was caught in her flow and swept far, far away to tha ravine's end.”