>Begin making our way towards that orange light.
>You begin trekking toward the light.
>The rocky landscape is a little more difficult to travel than the meadows of the floating island were. The land is uneven in spots, leaving the chance that you would trip if you were careless. Brambles and tough-leaved weed grow from between the cracks in the stone, both threatening to catch your dress as surely as the undergrowth in some of the forests you have visited. You try to keep away from the thin rocky columns; while they do not feel innately dangerous as some things you've encountered, you aren't in the mood to tempt fate. The smaller crags are easy enough to step over when necessarily, though you tend to walk around them rather than risk stubbing your toe or tearing your dress.
>As you travel toward the light, the crags become more common, and the land a little rougher. You become begin to find tiny canyons, no more than six feet feet deep and maybe twice as long, torn into the ground at random intervals, often severing as small oases for brambles. Curiously enough, you note there is practically nothing in the way of dust here, you only notice tiny amounts in some of the cracks every so often, the rest of this rocky land seems to be strangely free of it. As time passes, the entwined moon and planet slowly arcs overhead. The stars do not seem to follow any such pattern, you watch as two bright ones move further and further apart as time passes, with others are almost impossible to track after you look away for too long.
>The dim light of the fire, however commands most of your attention, as you steadily make your way toward it. Slowly, achingly slowly, it grows bit by bit. It has likely been two hours since you set out when you are close enough to it, some hundred or more yards away, to make out more details. In particular, you can make our a supine human-sized figure laying close to it.
>_
