Confusion on the Ground

Artisan was pleased to see the winter snows melt and the spring return, welcoming both the increase in temperature and the return of the natural beauty of new growth. Winter did not suit the preferences of the tropical wolf, nor did it make for easy and enjoyable raiding experiences. Hopefully with the new year, Sparrow's eye would turn upon a new target, and Artisan could show himself as improved since his last raid encounter with Artorias. As long as he didn't end up getting kidnapped and stuck in a jail cell again.

He made his way east, following along the coast of Boreas from his obsidian beach down into the mangroves. The Aracari man had an appreciation for nature and envied it's unpredictable grace. Even now as the winds began to pick up around him, he could not bring himself to feel anything but awed by it's might. The sun was beginning to set, bringing out from the territory it's most unique attribute - a bioluminescent glow, reflecting off the multitude of waterways, the moss-touched bark, and the marshy, wet earth beneath the mangroves. The area around him was alive with color and energy, but the atmosphere was charged with a quality that hadn't been here the last time he'd wandered in to observe the phenomenon.

The mangroves were beginning to bow beneath the might of the wind, and the earth beneath his paws might have been entirely liquid for the way the waterways were forced to spill out over the grass. Each moment he remained in quiet contemplation, nature's fury grew. Rain had begun to break in from the thick canopy above, pouring in at such velocity that for a moment, Artisan had thought it was hail pounding against his side. The swampy land was quickly flooding, the wind whipping up and carrying the water in almost waves. Soon, Artisan could no longer see where he had come from or where he was headed. Everything around him was water and wind, and had gravity not held him to the ground, he doubted he could find which way was up and which way was down.

Artisan was beginning to realize that he would find no safety in this grove of aged and gnarled trees. The wind was putting pressure on the tops of the trees enough for the canopy to near break open, but it seemed to only darken the surroundings as the clouds above absorbed what little biolumnescence was guiding his way. It was as if the waterways below him had come alive, the water pulled from the ground entirely and tossed in circles around him, at him, through him, to crash back onto the forest floor. It was wild, unrelenting, a show of raw strength from mother nature. Artisan respected it enough to accept that he had no place here, and began to run.

The wind and rain whipped at his face as he tried to flee, his paws catching upon exposed roots every few steps and occasionally, dragging him down into the chaotic pools of water that ravaged the ground. He had found his way this deep by following one particular waterway, and now with the state of them, he simply needed to run. North, west, east, either direction would take him out of the danger and into a plain where he could navigate himself back into safety. South would be death, the angered ocean itself from where the storm originated. A 75% chance then, not the worst odds he'd ever faced.

Artisan continued on, eyes narrowed into slits against the winds, paws burning with the multitude of watery cuts he'd sustained in his frantic attempt to flee. His pelt was utterly soaked through, his bones cold and aching, but still he knew he could not stop. The storm was growing in intensity, and while Artisan would never have imagined it possible before today, he worried it might pull the forest out from it's roots and him along with it.

There was a break in the trees ahead, but with the intensity of the storm that had consumed the mangrove, he could not see what was on the other side. He might find himself in the safety of the weeping woods to his west, the kaumi delta to his east, or even the hotsprings further into the mainland... but it was just as likely that he would exit the grove and land head first into the ocean. Swallowing hard, he broke through the trees with the wind and rain following close behind. It took him a moment to calibrate himself to the new area, to realize where he was and where he should go next. Up ahead he could see more water - the defining feature of sunset falls. Falls meant rocks, ledges, cliff faces, and sometimes even caverns. There, he could find cover from the storm, should it chase him that far.

Word Count: 814