The Wilds are utterly alien, as though entering a new, humid world. Trees like towers swarmed around us, standing as sentinels. Their bases thicker than the homes I’ve lived in. The map we’ve made so far, though only a draft, says we’re nearing the center. As long as we make it before the Jupians I’ll be satisfied.
We’ve been following the Tear of Daelig since we left Silver Peaks. On the way, we’ve passed through ancient settlements, abandoned and in ruin – I never learned of the Wilds having a settled population. I believed it, before today, to be a place of nomadic tribes – if that. But what we saw were hollowed trees, dens carved and man-morphed into the canopy. Another thing to note, is the wide array of animals, only moments ago I saw the back end of a stag. Since entering we’ve seen birds, insects, reptiles and even mammoth bears.
The forest floor has been cleared for us, but not by man. Wildlife teems just outside of my vision, hiding in the impenetrable undergrowth. Above, in the understory of the trees is a plethora of animals, loudly dashing from tree to tree.
As we’ve progressed I’ve seen just how primordial the forest is: centuries-old trees sprawl out limbs that guard the darkness and distort and hinder any sunlight. Each clearing we reached to rest, reminded me of something godly. Only Ouros could’ve created something this beautiful… and treacherous.
The troops are handling this well enough, we’ve had no losses, no complaints. They all seem as mystified as I am. Commander Leofric is happy with the pace we’re at. We have yet to see any airships. Ahead there’s a cliff face, riddled with cave entrances. As the sun sets, I’m certain we’ll rest there. Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after we’ll reach the Eye of the Wilds.
This beauty is Ouros’ land, through and through, and under no circumstances will I let Jupians claim it.