The Well of Roots
I left Wave of Smoke behind to continue on foot, a brief exchange of looks between us enough to reasure his doubts. The trees and undergrowth had thickened to the point that I could no longer move with any assurance of stealth so long as I stayed mounted, but still, I regretted having to leave him behind. I still feel the newly-formed bond between us, even after the towering trunks behind me had obscured him from view.
The slight downward slope of the land, along with the growing sound of falling water, drew me northward from my previously-steady eastern track. The bodies of the trees here crowded so closely that it became a struggle to force my way between them, and so I moved into their branches to continue. This was all the more to my benefit when the ground suddenly ended, leaving me to gaze breathless at my first sight of the Well of Roots.
Where the earth ended, the roots of the trees continued, bursting forth into open air from the loamy wall and reaching eagerly onward. No longer muffled by the walls of bark surrounding it, the hiss of water that had drawn me had become a roar. Below where I crouched, a sea of mist undulated, almost concealing its source: a great waterfall that exited from below the ground some twenty yards beneath the edge of the bowl.
