Powerful Pull

After spending seven days and nights traveling across the High Fen, Ashlynn and her companions finally arrived at the edge of the cliff that marked the end of the White River and the entrance to the Briar. 

In the starlit darkness, their small circle of wagons had been arranged to block the cool mountain winds that swept down from the east. The breeze carried traces of snow and ice even now that summer was almost upon them. In the distance, the frozen peaks loomed as darker shadows against the moonless sky. 

Lanterns hanging from the wagons cast pools of warm light that pushed back against the darkness, but even their glow seemed minuscule when Ashlynn looked out over the vast, mist-covered darkness below the towering cliff. Next to the dizzying height and the thunder of water pouring over the edge, everything felt smaller and less significant, as if it could be swept away at any minute.