Now that they were at the Eathean Prairies, traveling was more difficult. Grath couldn't let the Flounder drift lazily east anymore. He had to drop down into the storm cloud zone to pick up the northern crosswinds. In theory, a balloon can travel to any corner of the world just by raising or lowering to catch a different altitude wind... in theory. In reality, some winds were too high up in this region to be practical. Going that high would result in the "giddy death" or "breathless gasping," as it was colloquially called. Low-lying winds risked storms. Lightning was bad, and water soaking was even worse. The Flounder's balloon was wrapped in cloud cotton cloth, dusted with a water repellent called "RainReject" dust. But at the price Grath could afford, the repellent wasn't something he could rely on. Finally, wind maps were not reliable; wind currents weren't always where they were supposed to be in no man's land. The time of the year affects wind position and strength, and poor or intentionally bad cartography makes matters worse. Grath headed down into the storm zone, hoping and praying that the wind would be good. It was mediocre. The Flounder and its crew of two drifted north across the prairies. At night, they took turns staying up to watch for storms. With time, the wind increased, and more rapidly they gained ground. Day by day, they passed boiling lakes and swampy grounds with occasional giant willow groves. They were all taken, though. Hunting ships of all sizes and shapes, from the sleek bird-like military vessels of the Prattian Empire to the fat, heavily armed, and armored merchant vessels of no man's land. Those merchants had to have special licenses to trade with Prattia, armed as they were. Grath even spotted a Bobber ship. They were mercenaries known for their combat prowess and their ship's unique design. Apart from its tail, a Bobber ship was a near-perfect teardrop shape, with the teardrop's tip pointing down. They offered unparalleled lift, with ballista decks that pointed out and down in every direction. Like the Flounder, Bobber ships were best for gaining altitude over their opposition. From the vantage of height, they would rain fire on anyone who dared to attack them.

On a whim, Grath asked Trarn, "Could you bolt any of those guys down there right now?" He pointed to a few of the ships drifting below amongst the giant willow strands. Trarn answered almost immediately, "Yeah, about five right now." Grath stared bleakly at the specks below moving about, less than ants in their view.

"Why don't you take up mercenary work? Or bounty hunting? You'd be rich."

Trarn shrugged his usual nontalkative shrug. Grath grumbled under his breath and went back to piloting. He was already sick of eating dried fish and getting sicker of Trarn's too-cool-to-care attitude. After much drifting, lifting, diving, and repeating, the Flounder floated to a small mucky lake with a single giant willow sprouting from its bank. The massive willows can't rival the colossal size of the cloud pines, but they are still much larger than any non-giant class tree. The once-advanced Republic of Tryne had birthed the "grounded gigantism theory" during the early 4th century. It postulated that massive variants of all life were possible so long as they lived the majority of their developmental stages in the low atmospheric range, aka (the cursed fog altitude). So far, no giant creature or plant could be raised to its gargantuan size at higher altitudes. Even klienah flowers begin their growth cycle far below the lofty heavens of their adult stage.

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Grath didn't think about such things now. His father's endless stories and scholarly curiosity were far from Grath at this moment. This lone tree will be our hunting ground, Grath thought as he grinned broadly. He brought the Flounder down to anchor among the floating tendrils of the giant willow. Unlike its smaller cousins, giant willows do not "weep"; their leafy strands are lighter than air and float upwards, helping to hold their massive branches aloft. Grath was careful not to let the Flounder get tangled. He anchored just above the topmost strands. Grath and Trarn were hunting far from other ships, not because they were more likely to see a burrowing owl if there were fewer ships and people (though that was also a reason), but because the chances of having their prey stolen were greatly reduced. The willow tree and its surrounding bank were barely free of the cursed fog. The two makeshift adventurers knew if the wind moved suddenly in their direction, being on the ground would spell death. They opted to keep their hunt in the mid-branches. Grath released the rope ladder and clambered down into the tree's bendy limbs. He had his dagger, crossbow, and sword strapped to him. Trarn followed soon after, his great-crossbow and shale dagger strapped to him. The two young men surveyed the tree. Far down at the tree's base, multiple holes had formed in the mighty trunk. Like the baobab of the northern jungle and far northern savanna, most giant trees form natural holes or even caves in the clefts of their trunks as they grow. This tree likely held bats, a good sign. Grath and Trarn returned to the ship. They would come back down at the cover of night.

The hours slid by like lazy snails, but finally, the sun began to set. Without torches, they quickly headed down into the branches while there was still light. Both men were armed with splitter bolts. Mosquitoes swarmed them, stabbing them wherever skin was found. Grath gritted his teeth against the bites and swiped lightly at the insects, trying not to make too much noise. The bats weren't shy. They flitted about in the cool night breeze, gobbling up mosquitoes greedily. Grath hunched down on a branch, drawing his baggy shirt up around his bare neck. He grumbled internally and looked about. The moon was weak, and the night was cloudy.... That was not optimal. Burrowing owls are a little louder in flight than other owl species, but they are still far quieter than a bat. Grath realized how stunted his efforts would have been without Trarn as he watched the flitting shapes. He could follow them a little, but bolting a small creature in flight was a different matter. They waited out the night, taking turns keeping watch for owls, and as dawn returned, it was Trarn who spotted the pair of glowing eyes watching them in the dawn light.