You’re looking at a frozen river. It looks just like another snow-covered meadow, doesn’t it? But this is frozen water. Not very long ago, it was home to fish and waterbirds only. Now man lives on it as well. Leave it to mankind to take advantage of every inch of space available. The winter opens up a whole new opportunity to boldly set out as a pioneer, at least for a couple of months.
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| Just another ice shanty town, here today, gone tomorrow. |
Soon enough, the warmer weather will mark the end of the
pilgrimage, and the river will jealously take back her property. Where it goes from there is a mystery. You may search all summer long, but you will
never find where the river hides her secret meadows. I’ve been told they are hidden in plain sight,
but I never seem to find them. It is a
trick between the river and the Great Alchemist, and they have left me out of
the loop.
But the ice fishermen care little for that. They leave the philosophers to argue about
whether or not angels dance on pinheads.
The matter at hand is fishing, and it requires a good deal more
concentration and flirting with reality than most wizards are willing to put
in. An ice shanty town is no place for a
person of letters, but if you are so inclined, I’m told the fish are
jumping. Bring lots of beer, and no
matter what happens, stick to your original story.
