Yarns of El Dorado #2

The wizard had been balancing across two stumps in a makeshift path through a malodorous bog when he heard the guttural call of a shroom golem.

"Perhaps you were right to insist on this path!" he called up to his great bird—an owl on the wind, unusual as it may have seemed at midday.

Whitwell, as Silas had taken to calling the owl, said nothing in response and only soared overhead—diving from time to time on the hunt for a meal—as one might expect an animal to do.

The shroom golem cried again in the distance, which put an unplanned energy in Silas' step.

He leapt from stump to slanting stump, and when he planted both feet, finally—if a bit too deeply—in the mud on the land, he heard a sudden splash in the brackish water behind him. Silas whipped his head around, only to see ripples fading back to stillness in the water.

The wizard gazed back for a moment over the path he had tread. However, tranquility's scent prompted quick adieu, and so he continued onward, whistling for his bird who was now perched in a tree, beak to talon in the feast it had found—ignorant to Silas' call.

Entered by: 0x3f80…DE2E