Doug
This much was certain, no human had come this way since the oldest tree was born. He'd followed the river into the Trackless Forest as well as he could, detouring along the numerous deer trails where the banks were steep or cut into the bedrock. Mostly there was more than enough room between the towering trees for his horse, the way made difficult here and there by deadfall. Occasionally the canopy opened up and the undergrowth grabbed annoyingly at the spear strapped to the horse's side. Once, he'd almost gone into a rectangular, Old World pit matted over with creepers. Soon after he'd come upon crumbled, overgrown ruins. He'd camped to the side and, with the dog, briefly explored the place, but any value had been stripped well before the forest had claimed possession.
He'd come upon many such ruins. Some the remains of individual dwellings, others the bare Old World bones of towns broken by the creeping vegetation, towering trees and countless winter frosts. The stream he'd been following ended at the largest body of water he'd ever seen. Following the shore he'd come to the open grave of an Old World city where the remains of towers thrust into the air like broken fangs. He'd spent a week exploring, but all was dust, stone and the constant cacophony of countless shore birds flittering about the towers like a cloud.
Beyond the City the coastline curved north but the man followed the sun into the Forest once more. The old documents gave him a clue as to where he was and told him there was much to find this way, but they were copies of even older documents which had crumbled to dust lifetimes before. This was a gamble, no question.
But wasn't everything?
The old maps had shown two rivers after the City, and he had spent days finding a way across one and weeks to cross the other which worried him as the nights were growing cooler. The third river came as a shock, but just a day upstream he'd found an Old World bridge, where the water ran wide and shallow, that appeared to have been repaired long ago with some crude stone work.
The Forest on the other side diminished after three more days of easy travel. Now he stood next to his horse with the dog sniffing about his feet. His deep blue eyes gazed over an endless expanse of open plain. The sky was iron gray and a rising breeze made the tall grass wave like the sea. He took off his wide brimmed hat and long blond hair fell over his sun darkened face. Wiping the cooling sweat from his forehead, he replaced the hat and, nodding, turned back under the trees. He'd need to stock up on food and water to cross the plain.
He'd come upon many such ruins. Some the remains of individual dwellings, others the bare Old World bones of towns broken by the creeping vegetation, towering trees and countless winter frosts. The stream he'd been following ended at the largest body of water he'd ever seen. Following the shore he'd come to the open grave of an Old World city where the remains of towers thrust into the air like broken fangs. He'd spent a week exploring, but all was dust, stone and the constant cacophony of countless shore birds flittering about the towers like a cloud.
Beyond the City the coastline curved north but the man followed the sun into the Forest once more. The old documents gave him a clue as to where he was and told him there was much to find this way, but they were copies of even older documents which had crumbled to dust lifetimes before. This was a gamble, no question.
But wasn't everything?
The old maps had shown two rivers after the City, and he had spent days finding a way across one and weeks to cross the other which worried him as the nights were growing cooler. The third river came as a shock, but just a day upstream he'd found an Old World bridge, where the water ran wide and shallow, that appeared to have been repaired long ago with some crude stone work.
The Forest on the other side diminished after three more days of easy travel. Now he stood next to his horse with the dog sniffing about his feet. His deep blue eyes gazed over an endless expanse of open plain. The sky was iron gray and a rising breeze made the tall grass wave like the sea. He took off his wide brimmed hat and long blond hair fell over his sun darkened face. Wiping the cooling sweat from his forehead, he replaced the hat and, nodding, turned back under the trees. He'd need to stock up on food and water to cross the plain.
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