Chapter Nine: A Whole New World
Groves of pine led to the heartwoods. It paves the pia for this land. Never-ending supply of plentiful, green-filled trees and freshwater. But here, the soil is so dry that the air sweeps powder from the floor like dust off an old book. The weather change had not yet provided optimal conditions. The environment was in a shift, and just two days later, the once dry grains became both liquid and solid.
Potholes and cracks retain some moisture now. The concrete nature softens, and the consistency on which you would stand sinks. The stability comes back as the mud is slowly compacted over time. The ground resolidifies to its former state when hotter conditions return. In other words, it goes back to its second true state of being, one that is much stronger, more durable, and more tractable than before. The world is a beaten path; the traveler only finds a way to step on it finer.
Three small children, cloaked in dirt-stained hoodies patched together from used rags, walked along a red dirt pathway. Side by side, they stood too frightened to let go of the hand they held. The group inched their way through muddied clay, their slow, tiny steps sinking more than they traveled.
"The Transit Roads," a throughway that led Heaven's voyage. It gave access and a way to trade and rove to the beggar and the chooser. To the sovereign states, castle coves, and uncharted territories that we do not know.
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They didn't know. They didn't quite understand their surroundings. Autumn reared, winding down, and the dawn of winter was upon them. That the chance of rain was intent. They ignored all indications to wear the proper attire. Not a single map was to be had. Just the clothes on their backs and shoes on their feet. Perhaps the young ones were careless, or maybe there was nowhere left for them to go. Either way, there is only this road now.
Carriages from the capital began to clog the arteries of this passage. The broadway, if it could be called that now, is taken back to narrowness as if were its origin, a seed that when fed became what is today.
The reduction of the road forced the group to teeter-totter over the edging on small coping that slipped a steep hillside into forestry. From the bottom of the hill, it was a ramp, and at the top, a cliff. They had to be cautious if not one of them could be badly injured, and knowing them, they would be stumped.
Caravans filled with men babbled about their time on the battlefield, and sex crazed stories of not one man, one woman, but men and women whom soaped each other using bars of depraved lust. They passed the three at moderate speeds, a single caravan at a time, with each carriage spotting the children outside.
A blackened eye and a sore thumb those kids were. It was an hour until dusk. Cloudy out. Yes, the later noon's tinted blue is not light per se, but it would take time for the eyes to adjust. There was no hiding, presuming that was ever a choice. They wanted to be avoided; there was no need to call for help; they were terrified of the consequences if they were to be caught by angels.