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Date Posted: 10:27:19 05/12/01 Sat
Author: .
Author Host/IP: proxy1.chariot.net.au / 203.30.236.71
Subject: As you lie exhausted, you here the strains of song.
In reply to: Baby 's message, "Climbs up slowly onto the rock" on 09:49:38 05/11/01 Fri
The bird lands on your shoulder and makes twitering noises. It is a lyre bird, and he changes his song to be identicle to the sound of the river. He stays on your shoulder as you fall asleap, and is still there when you are woken by the sun the next day. Now, however, He's talking. "Very close now." He says, using your voice again. "Just up through the rocks and into the spring. Then you can walk on out!" He twitters mockingly. "Hope your joints aren't stiff." He mimicks the sound of a child gigling and flaps away. You continue up-river.
Sure enough, by noon that day you've reached the head-springs, the source of the stream you've grown to hate after fighting against it the whole way. The spring is grown over with grasses, and has a somewhat swampish appearence, but a clean, crisp smell. The ground surrounding it is deceptive, and a step sinks feet and paws to several inches below the surface. Across from you, behind the spring itself, is a slice of petrified tree wood, sticking up out of the ground as though it was a tombstone. It has words carved onto it, which are filled with moss, making them easier to read.
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Replies:
- She climbs slowly over to the piece of wood and began to read -- Baby, 08:20:38 05/13/01 Sun
- The stone reads as folows: -- ., 16:45:48 05/13/01 Sun
- SAhe reads it aloud -- Baby, 10:33:50 05/16/01 Wed
- Suddenly, a whispering is heard -- ., 18:20:18 05/17/01 Thu
- SAhe reads it aloud -- Baby, 10:33:50 05/16/01 Wed
- The stone reads as folows: -- ., 16:45:48 05/13/01 Sun