PROMPT : STAGNANT
Filthy water up to their knees, thin, foul-smelling air curling around the poor-fitting respiratory masks. The Exploration group #615, continued on, in spite of the trials.
There was too much at stake to worry of the simple creature comforts of their homes and loved ones. What they would discover on this little trip would benefit the lives of millions now and in the future—as long as they made it back alive.
The troop leader blew a whistle, holding up a hand for a quick break. The explorers slogged up towards the bank of the stagnant river, cautiously examining the soggy shoreline and jagged rock outcroppings.
Scanners and the two native guides present had emphatically insisted on traveling on foot upriver—in said river. Neither the Tactical advisor or the personal cartographer had been able to convince them otherwise.
“Chief?” Olsen eased himself up on a sharp slab of rock. There was something about the riverbank that made him uneasy and he really didn’t want to put that disconcerting feeling into words.
Perhaps the native guides had been right.
“Keep it down, rockstar,” his partner, Jabberwocky, gave him a light shove, before heaving himself up and out of the green water, to perch atop the rocky cliff. He wrinkled his nose at the stench and frowned. “Someone might want to wake up that useless Mage.”
“I’m not useless,” came the sleepy whine of Miara Ulven. She sat daintily atop the shoulder of stone golem that had carried her for the entirety of their expedition up to this point. “And I’m awake.”
“Your point?” Jabberwocky grumbled. “What’s wrong with this place? Why can’t you cast a protection spell—or a dozen?”
Miara rolled her eyes. “I don’t have the energy to explain something that complicated to someone as thick-headed as you,” she said, primly. “Try and keep up, would you?” She sniffed. “Chief? We need to move, I can feel something getting closer—move. Now.”
A collective groan-albeit muffled-sounded through the group, but they were up and moving again.
Moving so quickly, they never noticed the yellowed eyes that tracked every single movement from shoreline to river’s middle—with unflinching hostility.
(c) S. Harricharan