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The mud sloshed into my shoes, the rain pelting down on my face. Ahead of me in this line of adventurers was our guide. I was beginning to question their sanity, as each mile we dredged, landed us more into muddy rain, and bitter cold. Winter had come beckoning right after a fall rain, dretching the trail in a grey haze of muck. We had began in high spirits, seeking out the rare and beautiful treasure called the Blossom of Tranquility. Somewhere past this horrid mud, was a rare and beautiful flower, that was sung about by bards, and stories spun that reeked of legends. It was said, that the blue within the petals would rival that of Shoshun's beautiful eyes. To compare a mortal flower with the beauty of the Seasons, had swayed my heart into coming on the journey. I was hoping to bring more than one bloom home, as the local medicine man came to me days before I was to set out, to speak to me about stories he had heard growing up as a young boy. The Blossom supposedly held mystical properties and he could perhaps study the flower to be made into medicines for our village. I honored his request, making no promises, because the last anyone had even seen the flower, was ancient scrolls depicting the mountains that it banked in it's snow. As I took each step, my toes felt like they were squishing into a mix of cloth and mud. It made my footing poor, and I noticed watching the others, that I was not alone in my fight to stay afoot. The land had began to incline reaching towards the heavens, as gentle hills, gave into treachous mountains. It's surfaces covered in the slime of rainy mud, making using the rocks for handles impossible. So half walking, half sliding and falling amongst it, we made our way up the mountains. We clung our clothes closer to our bodies as the wind begin to snip at us, hissing at us to return down the mountains slopes. As I concentrated on making my way up the mountain, I missed noticing that the person before me and fallen. Tripping over their tangled limbs, I fall into a heep upon them. Our arms and legs thrashing to hold a grip on the mountain, versus plummeting back down to where we began. Our guide continued with a lantern ahead of us, singing a song that sounded awfully like that of a deckhands chore jig. Scrambling to get up, and not get left behind to possibly rot on this mountain, the companion and I, straightened ourselves out, and managed to stand up. The mud clung to my heavy coat, making it even heavier for the climb. Could this get any worse, I thought. And of course like the gods felt it'd be humorous to answer my rhetorical question, I began to hear rocks pittering across the slope. <b> It's giving! Where did that voice come from? It didn't sound like anyone from my party. I began to hear cackling from our guide, surely his sanity had to have snapped. Some of the pebbles began to grow into larger rocks, and I heard grunts and groans from those being hit in front of me. My eyes tried to focus in the dark night, but the mountain seemed to be moving in the shimmering surface of the rain. <b> Thawck! I began to try to cling to anything as I began to slide down the mountain. I knew if I didn't stop myself somehow I'd plummet down a cliff ledge and not return to my family. Branches of trees passing me by, began to cling to me, as if trying to hold onto me. I came to rest at the stump of a tree, my cold body unable to move, through a blow to my head. I awoke, the waves crashing against the stern of the ship. Wait, ship, where was I? I tried to sit up, but my throbbing head rolled me to my side. Where I heard the nice thud of metal against wood. I opened my eyes noticing the shackles on my wrists. I sighed heavily trying to regain my thoughts and to figure out what had transpired the eve or days before. As I tried to think, this awfully annoying chipper deckhands jig came rumbling across the ship's deck. Wait, wasn't that my guide's voice? `Manyara | |