Maris knew her tribe would be traveling southeast, following the Rotten River until it branched off to become the Blachten River. She decided she needed to travel in the opposite direction. Her decision solidified as she saw the trees poking up from the western horizon, lit by the rising sun at her back. [i]It’s been too long since I climbed a tree.[/i] She grinned wide to herself and started off.

Her brisk, unencumbered pace ensured she reached the edge of Builthy Vale by nightfall. She marveled at how much faster she could travel without her tribe. Her earlier belief that her trident would make a good walking stick was proven correct, which pleased her immensely. She stuck the trident deep into the sand and made camp on the clearing underneath a large tree with twisted, gnarly branches. There were clumps of grass struggling up from the sand, and she made sure to sit on the soft blades to make herself comfortable. Sitting cross-legged in front of her small fire, Maris ate a quick supper of dried meat and crumbly cheese. She scanned the treeline, noting that there did not seem to be a path inside, natural or otherwise. The trees grew close together and she imagined that little sunlight would pierce the thick vegetation. Strangely, she could not hear any sounds of wildlife coming from the forest. The longer she stared at the forest, the more it unnerved her, until at last she shivered and snapped out of her transfixion. The temperature was rapidly dropping, and though she was no longer in the desert proper, it still cooled down considerably at night this close to the dunes. She took out a large, thick length of cloth, wrapped herself in it, and stretched out next to the fire, using her knapsack as a pillow. She slept that night on her side, clutching her trident and facing the woods, too nervous to put her back to them.

Maris woke a little while before sun-up, just as she intended. She wanted to have her camp all packed up by the time the sun rose, so that she would waste none of the precious light on anything other than her trek through the forest. She kicked sand on her fire, stowed her few belongings away in her pack, and brushed the sand off herself briskly, all while keeping a suspicious eye on the trees. It was now morning, but she heard no birdsong. She may have lived most of her life in the desert, but she knew what a forest was supposed to sound like. They’d camped next to plenty, even passed through some. There were always birds chirping, tweeting, singing, in all of them. But this one...she didn’t like this one at all. Her thirst for adventure, however, drove her forward into the forest, despite her misgivings. Yes, something was very wrong with Builthy Vale. Maris intended to find out what.