It did not take long for the laughter to subside, and not much longer after for their destination to come into view.
The Wetlands and the Turtle Path stood beautifully beyond the gap that separated the two, since this time, the gap between the two Gardens was beyond anything they had previously seen.
The distance between the two stood at a mighty five hundred feet in length, with nothing connecting them other than the half mile of emptiness that was the gap, before reaching that same violent river, ready to break anything and everything to pieces.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Blanc sighed, looking at the distance between them and their destination.
“You can say that again,” Celine agreed. “Also, I suggest everyone be careful not to slip, keep as much distance between you and the gap as possible.”
To which all, including Blanc, took a few steps back, just as a precaution.
It was frustrating to see the gap between Gardens increasing yet again, since that meant a larger distance that had to be crossed on yet another unknown path.
If they were lucky enough to find it.
But even then, that could have been just as unstable and dangerous as the one they used to get into the Taiga.
However, that was the full extent of Blanc’s frustrations, since beyond this uncounted issue, all was between reason.
There was no path in front of their eyes, but that was to be expected.
Their luck could only stretch to a certain point, after all.
“We rest here for a bit, decide on which way we go, then start looking,” Blanc said to the rest.
A plan they all gladly accepted, giving them an opportunity to catch up on water and some food, as they stared at what lay beyond their eyes.
If the rainforest were humid, the wetlands would be half water themselves.
It was gorgeous to look at the hundreds, no, maybe thousands, of small waterfalls as they fell inside the gap.
The waterfalls came from the enormous quantity of water that flowed through the Wetlands, feeding the monster of a river below, in what could have been a never-ending cycle that passed through all three gardens in different ways.
Far off to the left, three or four miles away, colossal white trees loomed above the water, their gorgeous crowns making the Garden seem less dangerous than it actually was.
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And it wasn’t that hard to find the danger.
On the part of the wetlands opposite to them, the surface broke into patches of green, little islands of life that seemed to float, deceptively solid amid all the water surrounding them.
But anyone foolish enough to trust those patches would find themselves waist-deep in cold mire, tangled in a death trap of roots and vines, easy prey for whatever waited nearby.
The water here was mercifully shallow for the most part, rising rarely above the chest, though deeper parts tended to appear without warning.
Scholars called the Wetlands one of the easiest Gardens, as per what Blanc had read in the past, but every person mentioned in those books gave out the same warning: that the wetlands were the most infuriating.
Because there, as the name promised, everything was wet.
The earth, the air, the bark on the trees, and even their clothes.
Nothing burned. Nothing dried.
And in that endless damp, kindling or fire, the most basic comfort, became a luxury.
Which, unfortunately, meant that it was just as impossible to keep yourself dry for prolonged periods of time.
A danger to one’s life, just as serious to be taken as the cold of the taiga or the heat and humidity of the rainforest.
And although it was warm inside the wetlands, the constant state of wetness sent many to their graves because of something called hypothermia.
A state in which the body loses heat beyond a certain point and is unable to control it, a very unkind death sentence.
But for all the danger the wetlands held, they held just as ample a reward for those brave enough to venture into their shallow waters.
Besides the turtles that Blanc and the rest did not require anymore, the wetlands had a bustling fauna. Follow current novels on Novᴇl_Fire(.)net
Manatees, crocodiles, and beavers in the waters.
Panthers, buffalo, hippos, dingos, boars, critters not even worth mentioning compared to the tens of snakes that called the wetlands their home.
As for the sky in those parts, eagles, falcons, and shoebills ruled and were often hunted and harvested.
“It is beautiful,” Lune muttered, staring at the waterfalls.
“An understatement, Little Flower,” Blanc replied, “But a dangerous Garden regardless of its beauty.”
“That, too, is an understatement, I fear,” Celine giggled.
“What makes you say that?” Blanc wondered, turning sideways towards her.
“Well, it is safe to assume that the small part of the wetlands that is actually dry enough to be usable by us, without risking our health pointlessly, is, beyond a doubt, full of danger. Not only from the beasts that might call it their home, but also from the one who owns the Garden,” Celine explained, but continued when she saw further explanation was painted on the faces of the people listening to her, “The rainforest and the taiga have an advantage. They are large enough for people to be on two opposite sides of the same Garden and have no idea of the other’s existence. That’s how large they are. But the limited space in the wetlands-”
“Makes it ever more difficult to keep it that way,” Blanc concluded her sentence, realizing what she wanted to say.
“Exactly,” Celine nodded, “Not to mention that for all Blood Certa knows, that Garden might be the only place left that has any turtles in.”
Blanc turned to face her completely, as he and the others were now paying close attention to her words.
“What are you trying to say, Celine?” Miyanna asked, “That the wetlands could be defended even now, while they are at war with the Metamorphs?”
Celine did not answer right away, as she weighed in all she knew, and all she could guess that might pose a probability in the situation outside of changing.
“That is precisely what I am saying,” Celine nodded.