Selva Lugana

𓆰  Swans and spilled wine ⑤

What wind blows in our direction?

The Ponàl returns suddenly, like a memory.

The resting time Pandolfo had conceded himself was nearly not enough to reinvigorate neither calves nor mind, but his body is resolutely moved by the searching for a healer that could save the wine bringing swan. It's a matter of time and there isn't much.

As he moves through a particularly dense agglomerate of brambles, clearing a path with the sickle he found in the Selva, he hears the noise of a.. waterfall? Here? in the Selva Lugana? How can a waterfall exist on the shores of a lake with no mountains?

Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but Pandolfo has never been one to listen to superstition. He moves more quickly now, guided by the increasingly loud noise of falling water.

A hole in the ground, the Ponàl places on his way. As he carefully approaches, he sees no end to that natural well, only the water falling and smashing against the stoney sides of the hole.

While concerned with that peculiar vision, Pandolfo doesn't notice something hungry, starved, ravenous getting closer and closer. Faster than the merchant's awareness, a beast pounces and hits the prey. Pandolfo can't react and falls near the mouth of the hole in the ground, without knowing what is eating him.

And so it ends the traversal of Pandolfo, born with the Drit and gone with the Ponàl.

The Selva Lugana has claimed him.

Marks left behind

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