During the initial journey south – sent on first assignment to recruit – Noah had made a very conscious effort to capture and memorise a stand-out selection of landmarks along the way for clarity of direction, when the time came to return; now, soaring on high upon the wingspan of an mammoth-sized eagle, shrewd, aqua eyes begin to hunt for the first. The blur of undulating earth they cover is a stew of vivid autumn hue, weathered gold, and copper, almost as picturesque as the sunset they flee. An attentive glance is turned rearward, distracted for barely a minute, to monitor the young creature in his slipstream who had so obligingly agreed to trek back as his company; she is unlike his dove - bold and better confident, fit both physically and mentally - so he feels alright turning a solitary ear towards her and keeping their momentum forward moving.

If they can just hold this vibrant pace they are managing, it will take the better part of two days and one night to arrive.

At last, searching eyes fall upon the shadowy contours of stacked granite and the shroud of glittering mist wrapped around it. The falls (which he has visited now thrice, on occasion), plunge powerfully into the sparkling depths of cool water below; an intricate canopy of varying hues frame its glaring centre, concealing winding, bucking trails interwoven like veins through the great hilly forest. Soon they are past it, and Noah sets his mind towards the next milestone -the place that would bed them overnight, the very foothills of the arctic. They arrive there late evening, and Noah gestures kindly to his pale-skinned companion, to make herself comfortable. His restless mind shares not the fatigue in his bones, so he stands by instead, and tells her of his adventures with Nora (by-passing the detail of their most intimate night); of the God of the Earth and the aliens, and all he knows of the different Helovian territories.

When at last he does sleep, gentle dreams paint to life the most beautiful of his memories – and his beloved dove is the light.

As the dawn slithers down through the cold shadow of night, Noah stirs back to life and works to prepare them both for the final leg (if he can help it). With the reddened crown of the sun peeking over the far, eastern horizon, he bids their little grove farewell and ascends into pregnant cloud. The previous day had been remarkably clear, and sailing between heavenly-highways had been conveniently effortless; this time, however, the icy flavour of high-altitude moisture gnaws savagely upon his chilling joints. He gestures down with the flared feathers of one wing and begins a slow descent – choosing instead a path just clear of rebel trees (there are few and those that defy the harsh climate on the tundra, are ugly with gnarled half-naked fingers). It is fortunate that a stiff southerly blasts up from behind, for the speed that is lost to the lesser elevation, in turn, is bolstered, by the brewing, moody squall.

Finally, when the bruised tone of evening is sapping light (for the cloud has only intensified, robbing the day of golden hue), from the sky, Noah spots the break in the savage range that he’s been desperate for. He calls out to his charge, excitement fuelling each word, "we are here, Zona! At last, we’re here…” And as they slip through the clandestine pass, the old, rusted sentinels snag his eye; always they taunt his resolve. Well beyond them, he falls to the grass and slows gradually to a stiff-legged walk (each limb tingles testily beneath the insult of his weight); wings swing low, burning with the strain of exertion. Though first and foremost his thoughts seek out Nora, he makes a path towards Zona and meets her with a panting smile.

"This is the Basin.

I was told to find a guy called Erebos once I’d… well, now that you are here. So, uh, keep your eyes peeled for a tall, dark guy with a sharp looking stick on his face.” Eyes grazed the side of the mountain behind her – scrutinising the vacant hole thereupon it – and he wonders with a sinking stomach, where his painted darling is so late in the day. Never the less, he begins his search in a north-easterly direction, scanning the (mostly) unfamiliar faces of any who they find.

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Note: @Zona @Nora  & Any | you are welcome to browse Noah’s threads after leaving the Basin with Nora for his experiences. He learns of the lands in the thread ‘Visitors’.

Noah

I was born a warrior
I was born a warrior