The siren song ebbs in and out, the undertow dislodging her thoughts. Adolphine runs her hand through her long red hair, attempting to rinse her mind. "This", she remembers, "this is the most dangerous part".
Her feet feel the soft sand underneath and she pauses, curling her toes in and out, the sand rushing through like an hour glass, passing the time. "I was here for a reason", she thinks, "what was that again...." The sand is so warm and so pleasant.
She notices the fog rolling in from the shore, joining the gentle sea waves. She slowly drags her hand through the fog, the airborn liquid eddying and curling around her wrists and waist, lovingly like a dance partner. She sways with the motion and the music.
"I was here for a reason", she thinks, "what was that again...." The fog is so cold yet so beautiful.
She can now see shapes in the fog, forlorn and forgotten shapes, dancing with the fog like she is, dancing with their sharp and elegant swords, cutting through the fog which follows and rejoins them, overtakes and reshapes them. She notices that the fog follows her as well, erasing her foot steps and past.
"I was here for a reason", she thinks, "what was that again...." The dance and rhythm embrace Adolphine and she lifts up her arms, slowly turning around and around. "I need to go forward", she thinks, "but which way is that..." Her hair follows her motion and she is a never ending spiral of dance and colour.
She notices the sword shapes again, now almost invisible in the fog and feels her hand touch her own dagger, suspended against her hip. Her fingers curl around the handle, remembering the hold and the steadying weight. Her feet find a forward motion and bring her closer to the sword bearers who are leaping out of the fog, leaping and being retaken, but leaping again.
"I was here for a reason", she thinks, "what was that again...." and her thumb finds the emblem on her dagger. "This", she remembers, "this is the most dangerous part".
Her thumb rubs the emblem, "A" for Adolphine, "A" for house "Arestus", for her mother who will surely die if.... if.... "If", she thinks "if I don't make it back to her past this most dangerous part of the adventure carrying her cure". "I have been here before!" she realizes "i made the same crossing before to retrieve the cure!"
Her hand reaches to the pouch with the herbs, dangling from her belt. The fog strands caress her hand, willing her to rejoin the dance. She quickly takes hold of the dagger again. A few more steps now, past the foggy leaping sword shapes, she can see sunlight glinting on the waves. Just a few more steps.
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