“This,” she tells me, her eyes catching the low glow of the torch, “is the River.”
I eye the muddy water beneath our feet, still and barely more than calf height, and frown.
“It’s a transient place. It represents a journey, and the water will wash the Above from your feet. You have to pass through it if you want to enter our settlement.”
“There’s no other way?”
“There are loads of ways to our settlement, but you can’t enter unless you walk through the River.”
I nod, not seeing much choice in the matter.
“You must keep moving, and don’t stop. Don’t pause.”
I begin to protest that I can’t see the shape of the rocks under the water and might trip, but she takes my hand and begins to walk forward, pulling me with her.
I realise just how quiet things were before – without the constant howling of the wind I have lived with my whole life. Once we start to walk through the water, the noise