The Forsaken Hero

The following days saw a change of pace in our journey. Until now, we’d relied on Fable’s size and speed to traverse any obstacle, practically breezing through what was normally a months-long journey. Now, however, we were forced to walk. The canyon was filled with sheer cliffs and twisting crevasses. Even with the road, many of the tight spaces were just large enough for a wagon to pass through, never mind a fifty-foot wolf.

I walked where I could, but whenever I grew tired and flagged behind, Fable was quick by my side. Even in his condensed form, he was nearly ten feet long and plenty strong enough to carry me by myself. Korra could have ridden too, but she claimed to prefer the exercise, jogging lightly beside Fable’s larger strides.

As the name suggested, Blue Canyon was, well, blue. Thick lines of blue mineral laced every cliff and boulder, a weaving mass of lines as intricate as any tapestry. They were worthless, apparently, but they brought an exotic beauty to the plain earth and stone.

The canyon was unlike any other place I could have imagined. Everywhere I looked there were dramatic features like slot canyons and funny rock formations. Water was everywhere, too, streaming down sheer cliffs, through narrow chasms, and sometimes even crossing through makeshift pipes beneath the blue gravel road. Trees grew in seemingly random locations with no thought for the traditional sense of soil. It wasn’t strange to see massive oak or pine trees sprouting like hair from the top of rocky arches or sticking sideways out of the craggy cliffs.

It was beautiful, and I soon found myself eagerly looking forward to the path ahead. Each wind in the road, every chasm escaped, brought new, exciting sights to my eager, wide eyes. It was a beauty I never could have imagined, so different from the rugged mountains and damp, dark dungeons I’d been confined to during my life in Enusia.

The peace and wonder of our journey ended on the third day. The sun had finally reached its zenith, chasing the lingering winter chill from the canyon, when I finally called for a rest. The road had emerged from a particularly dark crevasse into a beautiful stone hollow. A small brooke cascaded down the nearby cliffside into a crystal clear pool, the outlet slowly trickling down the way we had come.

I slid off Fable’s back, my feet casting up small poofs in the blue dust. The sun was directly overhead, a welcome change from the cool shadows of the canyon. Rubbing the stiffness from my legs, I let out a small, satisfied moan, stretching my arms high over my head.

"Feeling a little antsy?"

I glanced over at Korra, returning her raised eyebrow with a small, bashful smile. "Maybe a little. Sometimes, I wish I could run like you can, even just for a little bit."