The Fall of Eden

Chapter 6

The following day, far north of Eden

            Those who once called Eden home now grumbled and groaned as they stumbled along a path of faded green grass.  The blinding sun sat in the center of the sky, after nearly two days of walking. The refugees squinted and some shaded their eyes with a cloth. Slowly - they marched westward, parallel to the Northern Plateau which was part of the mountain range that wrapped around Eden.

            This mountain range created a bowl around the northeast corner of Transcend, starting at Eden, it stretched north and made a wide left turn until it joined the Winterhorn Mountains. Winterhorn reached far north of Transcend's boundaries to join Whiteland's great mountains. Whiteland was an uncharted area, not yet tamed by man. Old lore told stories of beasts that lurked within its icy mountains. But that was just old lore. Whiteland was also where Aiden's father led the 7th siege to tame the land and spread Eden's grasp.

            The refugees were forced to head west since the Northern Plateau acted as an impenetrable wall. Plus, Whiteland was no place to safely take defenseless and tired people. And tired they were. A throbbing pain pulsed in their feet and hammered at their legs.  The bright colors they once wore were now dirty, torn, and broken. They were hungry and parched, without any food and only their sweat to drink. Few brought water, but were running low.

            Damien held his head low as his golden hair fell in front of his face, dirty and wet. He then looked up and spotted Femi and Aiden, walking a short distance ahead of him. Femi walked close to Aiden, as if afraid to lose him. Damien could tell she struggled to keep up since she was much shorter than Aiden. Aiden looked to his right, staring at the massive plateau. Damien wondered why Aiden was so focused on it. He seemed almost anxious. Damien then looked up at the massive wall of stone.

            It had plenty to look at. It was a remarkable display of power and size. The sides of it were etched with old remnants of drawings and markings. There was no telling whether these were made by early colonists or natives; perhaps both. Damien reached in his small sack that wrapped around his back. In it, he pulled out a somewhat aged book, bound by string. He smiled and wiped the dirt off of the book's leather cover. It was his sketchbook. He was happy that his father managed to save it. He pulled out some charcoal and opened his book to try and draw these peculiar markings.

            However, he suddenly lost his thought when he opened it. In it was a small paper windmill that had been flattened by the pages of the book. He looked up at Femi and remembered where he had gotten it.

            Femi and Damien had been the best of friends since they were young. It all started long ago when Femi was being teased by a group of classmates. Damien had just finished drawing a picture of a flower. He felt a sense of pride when he finished it, it was his best yet. Then, seeing Femi crying, Damien wanted to do something. So, he did the only thing he could. He walked up to her after class and gave her the picture. Damien couldn't say a word and blushed when he handed it to her, being only eight years old at the time. The next day, Femi gave him a paper windmill in return. After that, they became friends and were close ever since. Damien felt an involuntary smile grow on his face as memories of them playing and spending time together flashed through his head. And now, Femi walked ahead of Damien just to keep up with Aiden.

            He couldn't blame her. Aiden was a well mannered and strong young man who seemed to have no fear. No matter how hard Damien worked, Aiden was almost always able to surpass him. He began to walk faster to catch up with Aiden and not seem so exhausted. After all, the horse he walked next to did not seem like it was going to cease its winds of stench any time soon.