He protested a bit, so Warja just stuck her tongue out at him and remained silent. A question followed, one she'd expected, but the young fae merely grinned at him. She wasn't going to say another word on the matter. Oh, no. He was just going to have to wait and see.
He questioned the rock and Warja was about to snort at him when the boy obliged her and picked up a rock. She nodded at him approvingly and with that she was off, turning from him to the dimly lit path ahead.
The light slowly grew and with it the rumbling. The air was laced with an odd, burning smell, giving it a thick and oppressive feel. Orange light bathed the rocks around and above them, casting shadows that writhed and flickered with the movement just out of sight of the pair. There was a bubbling sound too, one that, if she didn't already know what was causing it, Warja would have mistaken for babbling water. The noise was a bit thicker sounding, sure, but there was very little to compare it to.
They rounded a corner and there it was: the river of fire. Grinning around the rock, Warja turned to glance back at Kismet, wanting to gauge his reaction before she got any closer. At this point the rock underfoot was warm, almost hot, and waves of heat could be seen floating off the molten river.
"Speech"
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