The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

As the three companions lingered on the outskirts of the village, the chill of the morning air embraced them. Desolate houses swung hanging doors and snow-laden roofs collapsed.

"What do you think of Lyanna and Jocelyn then?" Brandon asks.

"They seem alright," Edric said.

"Real descriptive and helpful there, Edric," Jon rolls his eyes. "They seem to be just like most people, just trying to survive. But I get what you are asking, we have plenty of food and can easily get it from the forests. They seem to be able to hold their own if they survived out here, and we need all the help we can get."

"Wow, that's got to be a first, Jon using his head."

Jon tills his head imperialistically. "Hey, I am smart. It is just that my humour often overshadows it."

Brandon smirks. "I think it's more likely to be your ego."

"Oh, how you two hurt me."

"Sorry for taking so long." Lyanna runs up to them, her pants filling the air.

Lyanna and Jocelyn trudge through the snow, fine fur jackets, the furs stitched into the lining of leather, wrapped tightly around them. Backpacks clanking behind them bashing everything inside of them, with finely woven blankets attached to the top.

Brandon looked towards the pair. "Got everything you need then?"

"Yep, I can't wait to get out of here, to adventure," Jocelyn said.

Lyanna looked back at her village. "Yeah, time to get out of this place."

Onward they walked, heading along the coast of the forest toward what should be eastward. Moving on from open plains and sweeping hills to sharp hills and closed valleys. They should be on the far outskirts of what is known as Sheepshead Hills if what they learned from the children of the forest is correct and towards the river that bisects it.

Paths became treks, and grass became gravel and rock. Travelling became harder; even their hardened feet became sore. But at the end and beginning of the day, there was always a filling meal to be had, which was a true luxury to be having. They continued to travel further, heading into the Lonely Hills before finally reaching their turning point: White Knife River.

The river danced with liquid grace, a serpentine ribbon winding through the landscape. Its waters were an astonishing clarity, a crystalline transparency that allowed glimpses into the pebbled depths below. Sunlight played upon the surface, casting shimmering reflections that danced in harmony with the current.

Approaching the water's edge, the air grew colder, and the river's frigid embrace became less tolerable. As they dipped their hands into the seemingly inviting stream, an icy shock shot up their arms, only to be mitigated by the warming blaze of the sun. Though the chill still seeped through their skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

Beneath the glistening surface of the clear river, a diverse aquatic world unfolded. Charr, their sleek bodies adorned with vibrant hues, glided gracefully through the water, their scales catching glimmers of sunlight. The occasional flash of silver revealed the presence of Salmon, their powerful bodies surging against the current in determined migration. Delicate trout weaved between underwater rocks, their spotted patterns blending seamlessly with the riverbed.

Clusters of vibrant green algae clung to submerged stones, providing a lush backdrop to the aquatic ballet. Like a submerged forest, delicate water plants swayed with the rhythm of the current, a grove for smaller creatures to bob and weave through. Dragonfly larvae darted between the aquatic flora, their translucent bodies pulsating with life. Sunlight filtered through the water, casting dappled shadows on the riverbed, where tiny invertebrates scuttled and burrowed.

The riverbed itself, adorned with smooth stones and pebbles, housed freshwater mussels nestled in the sediment with their shells forming intricate patterns.

"Beautiful." Jocelyn ran her fingers through the water, feeling its refreshing biting chill. "This reminds me of dad."

"He sure did love taking you on hunting trips. He was so happy the day that you said you wanted to go hunting."

"After that, we went hunting whenever he had the chance, I think I was part of the reason that he started to hate being village chief." Jocelyn smiled sadly. "I miss them."

"I miss them too." Lyanna sat down on the riverside, smiling brightly at her sister. "But these guys don't seem too bad, Brandon is nice and honest, Jon is quite the gesture and Edric is quite but very kind." Lyanna watches the guys as they try and figure out the path to take.

"I'm glad they found us." She says also looking towards the group of guys who have finally decided the best route to take.

"Come on, let's get moving," Brandon says as they start to move off.

/

They needed to find the interception of two rivers feeding into the one where they would head north into the forest following the river. So, they followed up the river stream though it was not easy. A rugged expanse of rolling mounds that converse with one another formed natural boundaries as each hill, draped in a patchwork of earthy greens, browns, and greys, begged them to stop. Moving further they entered the outskirts of what is called the Lonely Hills.

Their steep slopes defy casual traversal, demanding careful consideration with each step. Jagged peaks and ridges interlace the terrain, creating an intricate network of rises and falls. They relentlessly climbed and descended the hills as they trudged through slashing winds that went to the bone, snow that made moving miserable, and colds that went straight through sleeping blankets.

But traverse it they must. They spent many days travelling through the hills, always keeping an eye on the river and following it as best they could, travelling further north until they finally gazed upon what they were looking for. They had found their intersection and were greeted by a village.

They approached the nestled village they quickly caught the scent of fresh fish mingled with the crisp freshness of river air. Simple wooden houses dotted the landscape along the riverbanks, and a simple wooden palisade encapsulated it nicely. As colonies of seagulls filled the air, their cries harmonizing with the rhythmic current of the calm flowing river.

The village embraced the convergence of the rivers as sturdy docks extended from the shore, offering a platform for the village's livelihood: fishing. Small boats, their wood fading under the sun's persistent gaze, bobbed gently in the current, tethered to weathered pilings. To be cast fishing nets and traps were meticulously arranged on the docks, their mesh intricately woven.

In the heart of the village, a communal gathering space came alive in the evenings. The villagers shared tales of their daily catches, the ones that got away, and proud displays of the largest catch of the day. The aroma of freshly cooked fish wafted through the air as families gathered to break bread and enjoy the moments.

A large village and just like its river filled with life, an odd existence from what they are used to with dying and abandoned villages. It seems the land was dying to the forest, but the rivers and the seas were still going strong. And with such a strong village, there is a nice place for fresh food and supplies.