#this area is all little trails through trees and marsh and streams

[tallymali]

boyf left the house to go to the pub and ended up accidentally leading the search for a missing child?? predicaments follow this man everywhere

#long story short the kids carers dont know the area well #were standing out on the trail panicking in the dark with just their phone lights on #boyf walks past and they ask him if hes seen a kid or if he knows where she could have gone #this area is all little trails through trees and marsh and streams #and he grew up here so he was like ah fuck theres so many places #he says give me a minute #runs back to grab his fluorescents and big torch #then went back and was giving ppl directions on where to check #cops turn up and they dont fuckin know the area either #so they’re asking him about all the different trails and shit #quite the situation

[whispering-clan]

The Costal Valley Territories

I made a map of the Whisper-verse clan's territories!

These clans live alongside the sea in a small valley split by a river!

Note: this map is more representative than entirely accurate, I just tried to show the basic idea of what the territories look like.

Descriptions of the Clan Territories below!

Moon Island:

Moon Island is both the gathering place for the clans on the full moon, and the place where the majority of the clans (excluding Whisperingclan) go to speak to Starclan. In the middle of the island where the trees form a circle around a large stone, the leaders will perch for meetings. This is also where cats wishing to speak to Starclan sit- under the light of the moon and stars.

...

Whisperingclan:

Age/origin: Youngest clan; formed after the founders were banished from Roaringclan for a coup against the new leader.

Territory: the tallest mountains, rocky, though with some trees, grass and bushes interspersed with the stone. There are a few small creeks and pools running through the mountains due to rain and snow run off, there are also several caves within the mountain. The winter is the worst here with the high altitude and high snowfall.

Camp: the Whispering Cave, a large cave filed with mystical glowing crystals which seem to whisper with the words of the Starclan ancestors. There are several pools above the cave, from which small streams of water fall through cracks in the stone into the cave.

Borders: the River marks the border with Roaringclan and SIngingclan; the border with Growlingclan is only marked with scent markers, though the change in territories can also be seen in the mountain peaks becoming lower and sharper in Growling territory.

...

Roaringclan:

Age/Origin: One of the oldest clans, formed at the same time as Singingclan and Echoingclan; territory was once larger, but was taken over by humans.

Territory: grassy, hilly, plains. Notable features are small patches of trees and bushes, a lake, a muddy/ soil patch by the river, and many little burrows to be found amongst the hills.

Camp: the Abandoned Burrows, a circle of empty fox burrows surrounded by trees and bushes.

Borders: the River marks the border with Whisperingclan; the creek marks the borders of Singingclan and Weepingclan; and on all other sides a human fence marks where their territory ends and the Human Farms begin.

...

Weepingclan:

Age/Origin: Second youngest, though still far older than Whisperingclan; formed from Singingclan separating into two clans, not from any all out fighting, but the realization that there were two obvious separate groups (in skill and personality) in the clan that could survive better in the separate territories.

Territory: marsh lands and dark forests made up of willows and oaks. The forests have soft thick wet peat, though there are some rocky places. Tall grasses and reeds grow around the marsh giving good cover.

Camp: The Weeping Grotto, a large cave opening within a rocky area of the forest of which is surrounded by the largest and oldest weeping willows of the territory.

Borders: the border with Roaringclan is marked by the creek; the border with Singingclan is marked by scent markers, though the change in territories can also be seen in the change in types of trees; the small piece of border with Echoingclan is separated by the river at it's widest, though both clans lay claim to half of the row of stepping stones which could connect the territories; the border which is not shared with any clan stops where human trails (hiking trails) begin, farther from there are human dens and farms.

...

Singingclan:

Age/Origin: One of the oldest clans, formed at the same time as Roaringclan and Echoingclan; originally encompassed Weepingclan as well, but they amicably separated into two clans for better survival.

Territory: forests made of oak and birch along with meadows filled with wildflowers and grasses. Through the center of the territory runs the River and a small creek shoots off through the territory as well. the river is banked by reeds and other water plants.

Camp: the River Hollow, a space surrounded by trees in the center of the island in the middle of the River within their territory.

Borders: the border with Roaringclan is marked by the creek; the border with Whispering and Growlingclan is marked by the River; the border with Weepingclan is marked by scent markers, though the change in territories can also be seen in the change of types of trees; and the border with Echoingclan is marked with scent markers, though it is easy to tell where it is, it is where the sand begins.

...

Echoingclan:

Age/Origin: One of the oldest clans, formed at the same time as Roaringclan and Singingclan; originally encompassed Growlingclan as well, though unlike Weeping and Singing, the separation was born from civil war, the losing side being Growlingclan.

Territory: a beach, almost entirely sand with only costal plants growing in the territory. There is a cliff line which is made up of rock, at the higher end of which the beach is mostly rock with tide pools, weathered stone arches, and the opening to a system of sea caves. This territory seems small, but the sea caves stretch out underneath for large expanses, and even under Growlingclan's territory, Echoingclan lays claim to all of the cave system even under other clan's terriotories.

Camp: the Sea Caves, mostly the large cavern formed at the front opening of the Sea Caves but some cats may even make their own dens in smaller off shoots of the caves as well.

Borders: most of their borders are at the sea's edge, though their borders with the other clans are marked with scent markers; it is easy to tell where territories end however. the border with Singingclan is where Singing's grass begins, and the border with Growlingclan is where the mountain's stone begins.

...

Growlingclan:

Age/Origin: Third youngest, though still far older than Whisperingclan; formed from Echoingclan separating into two clans, two factions in the clan had formed and went into a civil war, Echoing won and banished the losing side to the far less hospitable side of the territory.

Territory: Truly one of the harshest territories, the lower levels of the mountains, rocky sharp lands that end with cliffs along the sea shore that are too high to dare try to reach the sea. There are small groups of shrubs and small trees, but little else in the form of plant life. there are some small pools which are cherished as they are the only certain sources of water.

Camp: the Broken Crag, a cliff face which is broken in places revealing small caves where cats can make dens.

Borders: the border with Whisperingclan is marked with scent markers though the change in territories can also be seen through the mountain peaks becoming higher in Whispering territory; the small border with Singingclan is marked with the river; the border with Echoingclan is marked with scent markers though it is easy to tell where the border is, it is where the sand begins.

#this was fun to make #I love world building :3 #whisperingclan #cryptid plays clangen #clangen #warrior cats #my ocs #warriors #ocs #singingclan #roaringclan #echoingclan #weepingclan #growlingclan #the other clans

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Little Miami Scenic State Park

8570 East State Route 73

Waynesville, Ohio 45068-9719 The Little Miami Scenic Park is located within the beautiful and historic Little Miami River Valley. The Little Miami is a designated federal and state scenic river. It is protected because of its high water quality, panoramic setting, and the many historic sites that can be found along its banks. The Little Miami State and National Scenic River offers a trip into one of Ohio's most beautiful and historic areas. As the river twists and bends, visitors will discover many natural wonders such as steep rocky cliffs, towering sycamores and elegant great blue herons on the wing. The Little Miami State and National Scenic River offers bikers and paddlers a trip into one of Ohio's most beautiful and historic areas. Visitors can traverse the 50-mile linear park by water, on the Little Miami State and Natural Scenic River, or on land via the Little Miami Scenic Bikeway Trail.

A trail meanders with the river through four counties encountering rolling farm country, towering cliffs, steep gorges and forests along the way. This steep gorge offers evidence of the erosional forces of glacial meltwater. Outcroppings of dolomite and shale are now exposed. Mammoth sycamores border the river's edge where great blue herons reside. Because of the relatively cool sheltered climate in the gorge, eastern hemlocks and Canada yew are able to survive here. Birdwatchers delight in the abundance and variety of colorful warblers and other songbirds in the park. The shaded slopes offer a variety of woodland wildflowers for visitors to enjoy. More than 340 species of wildflowers are known in the river's corridor. Virginia bluebells, bellworts, wild ginger and wild columbines are only a few to be seen in the park.

The Little Miami River Valley is historically significant to the state of Ohio. The wooded lands were home to several early Ohio Indian cultures. Nearby are the largest and best known earthworks in the state known as Fort Ancient. Fort Ancient was built by the Hopewell Indians who inhabited the area from 300 B.C. to 600 A.D. In more recent history, this area was inhabited by the Miami Indians and the Shawnee. After the War of 1812, the Indian threat dissipated and the area attracted settlers. Numerous mills were developed on the river bank and several still stand today. Clifton Mill near Yellow Springs is still in operation. By the mid 1800s, the river corridor was bustling with grist mills, textile mills, stagecoach trails and a railroad line. Indian mounds and relics, historic buildings, grist mills and stagecoach trails can still be found in this historic river valley. The Little Miami Scenic Park became a state park in 1979.

Camping is limited along the developed portion of the trail. Several privately operated canoe liveries along the river offer camping for those backpacking or hiking long stretches of the river corridor. Other overnight accommodations can be found in the various bed and breakfast locations and motels in Lebanon, Morrow, Loveland and Milford. Smallmouth and rock bass provide excellent catches for anglers. Fishing is permitted from boats and from shore at the canoe access sites. A valid Ohio fishing license is required. Two picnic areas with shelterhouses are offered at the staging sites along the route. One area is in Morrow, the other is in Loveland. The shelterhouses are available on a first-come, first-served basis. Little Miami State Park introduces a new concept to the state park system--a trail corridor. This non-traditional approach focuses on offering numerous recreational pursuits--bicycling, hiking, cross-country skiing, rollerblading, backpacking and horseback riding. The corridor also provides access to canoeing the Little Miami River.

From the northernmost canoe access point to the Ohio River, the Little Miami River can provide numerous levels of excitement: an historic journey, an environmental experience, a fishing or recreational trip. The Little Miami River is approximately 105-miles long, of which nearly 86 miles are canoeable. Those who plan to canoe or boat the Little Miami Scenic River must exercise caution because the river's immense power is often hidden. All rivers may become dangerous when water is high and flow is rapid from heavy rainfall. Streams such as the Little Miami are always dangerous at lowhead dams and where log jams or submerged trees create powerful forces in the current. Approved, properly fitting life jackets are required. All boats and canoes require a current registration sticker.

Little Miami State Park is approximately 50 miles in length. It averages 66 feet in width and runs through four counties of southwest Ohio (Greene, Warren, Clermont and Hamilton). This abandoned railroad right-of-way, converted for public use, boasts 47 miles of paved trail from Milford to Hedges Road. The remainder of the trail to Springfield is paved and operated by Greene County Parks and Recreation. Three staging areas (Loveland, Morrow and Corwin) have been located along the developed portion of the park. These include parking lots, restrooms, public phones and trail access points. These facilities are wheelchair accessible.

Three state parks are nearby including Caesar Creek in Waynesville, East Fork in Bethel (both taking their names from branches of the Little Miami), and John Bryan near Yellow Springs, Ohio. All three parks offer camping, hiking and fishing opportunities. Two state nature preserves, Clifton Gorge and Caesar Creek Gorge are close by. Both preserves offer unique geological and botanical features for visitors to enjoy. Spring Valley Wildlife Area operated by the ODNR Division of Wildlife offers hunting and fishing opportunities for sportsmen and is also known as one of the best birdwatching areas in southwestern Ohio. A boardwalk leads to a wildlife observation tower over the marsh. Caesar Creek also has a wildlife area available for hunting. Kings Island Amusement Park, located at Kings Mill, Ohio and Loveland Castle both offer interesting side trips in the area.

[cmenvs3000-2018-blog]

Nature, Tools, and Interpretation

As I have developed, and will continue developing as a nature interpreter, not much has changed with my beliefs. I believe that respecting nature and people is key in living your life to its fullest. Without getting into too much detail on how my personal compass works, that is as simple as a description as I can give. Although the basic concept seems quite simple, most people I meet on a daily basis seem to miss it. I see people constantly walking all over natural spaces, animals, and other people with no care for how it effects them.

I feel as though my responsibility, every chance I get as an interpreter, is to enforce these basic principles using the concepts of nature interpretation. The knowledge that I have gained through this course and the experiences associated with it will lend themselves to my future ability to guide people. In particular, it is the different interpretive techniques that I have learned which I intend to utilize.

Orienteering

Orienteering is a hands-on method to learning about nature. Using a compass and a map is a great way to become familiar with the layout of natural spaces. Using a map you can learn to recognize the slopes and hills of a landscape, the lakes and streams, and the marshes and forests of any park, city, or rural area. Coupled with habitat education this can be an extremely educational activity, and can turn into a valuable survival skill and recreational activity for any interested participant. For those who want to learn about nature but would like a somewhat rigid process, becoming familiar with maps and compasses is the perfect route. Using this method to explore nature can help lead you home, physically and even mentally. Learning to take control of a situation and use limited resources to accomplish a goal will lead to self confidence that will transfer to other aspects of a persons’ life. This will lead to personal development in their appreciation for nature, and their transferable skills.

Photography

Photography is an interesting thing for me to talk about since I personally suck at it. Despite this, I know it can be a fabulous technique to appreciate the beautiful view of nature and even share it with others. I have always been on the receiving end of this type of technique. Those of us who are gifted enough to take these perfect photographs of amazing views are so valuable here. It is those people who allow the rest of us to see and appreciate nature through their eyes. Teaching people the value of nature through aesthetic beauty is just one basic approach that can be used on people new to experiencing nature.

The Story

Probably my favourite way to get people engaged with nature is to explain the amazing story behind so many natural things. From the life struggles of trees, to the family struggles of a herd of deer surviving in the wild, there is a story behind everything. It is learning this story, and the history behind all of these complex things, that will give people appreciation for the natural world around them. Seeing the story in even the most simple of things can add so much value to it for even the least nature-involved people out there. This is the most powerful tool I’ve found this semester to help guide people through nature interpretation.

The Journey

No matter what techniques an interpreter uses, the most important thing for any nature adventure is the journey. Not just your stereotypic saying about how the journey is more valuable than the destination – it’s who you journey with, and what you learn along the way. Going out with classmates, family, or even just with your own thoughts allows for so much development of the human mind. As an interpreter it is important to encourage people to make time for even the smallest walk down an urban trail.

With all of these techniques and pieces of knowledge I have adopted from this course, I am sure that I will be able to aid people in their journey through experiencing nature for themselves. Although I’m not sure how often I will get the opportunity to create organized nature walks or programs, I do know that I will help people any chance I get. It is my responsibility as a person with this knowledge to help guide people through their journey. It is also my responsibility to remember my place in their journey. I know I need to leave my personal beliefs out of it, and make sure any techniques I use are appropriate for the people I am trying to help. If I do this I am confident that I will be able to help people, even in the smallest of ways.

I will continue to try and help people in any little way possible, and this course will prove invaluable in my future journey as a nature interpreter!

[jettgfarries]

Avenue south residence price list

There are several great city parks in Paramount, including the Village Skate Park located at Lakewood and Somerset Avenues. 12,500 square foot park features tranny and street terrains and is open daily from 7 am to dusk and helmets and pads are required for all skaters. Nearby is All American Park located on Orizaba Avenue which features a huge playground, meandering walkways, a stream and a pond. Ralph C. Dills Park, located on San Juan Street is another great park that offers playgrounds, exercise stations, a nature trail and a jogging path. The El Dorado Nature Center is located a short 15 minute drive south to Long Beach and offers 105 acres with a lake, forested areas and nature trails. There is also a bridge that connects to a small island in the middle of the lake where the visitor's education center and gift shop are located.

An hour north is Topanga State Park offers 36 miles of hiking, biking and equestrian trails situated among the canyons of the Santa Monica Mountains. Topanga State Park is open daily from 8am to dusk and camping is available on a first come first serve basis. Also an hour north, but a little more east than Topanga is Angeles National Forest. Avenue south residence price list  This 1,000 square mile forest offers a ton of different trails for hiking, mountain biking, equestrian and ATVs. These trails meander through tall trees, canyons, creeks and beautiful landscapes. If planning on visiting this park along with any other national or state parks in the area, you can purchase an adventure pass for more convenience.

The Seal Beach National Wildlife Refuge is located in Anaheim Bay, just 30 minutes south of Paramount. This refuge features 911 acres of saltwater marsh and offers guided tours on the last Saturday of every month. This park is a hotspot for several different species of birds that winter in the Southern California area. Unfortunately due to the need for a high level of protection the park is not easily accessed by the public so the tours are only offered on the last Saturday of each month and reservations must be made the Wednesday before the tour. The tours are free for all guests.

Golf enthusiasts have several options for a day of golfing near Paramount. Public courses in the area include the Lakewood Golf Course in Lakewood, the Cerritos Iron-Wood Nine in Cerritos, the Bixby Village Golf Course in Long Beach and the Rio Hondo Golf Course and the Los Amigos Golf Course, both in Downey. There is also the Recreation Park Golf Course complex in Long Beach that offers both an 18-hole course and a 9-hole course and welcomes beginners of all ages. In nearby Cypress you'll find the public Navy golf course which features several different courses.

Of course no trip to the Paramount area would be complete without a trip to the Pacific Coast. There are tons of great spots along the coast from Santa Monica, just 35 minutes northwest of Paramount, to Laguna Beach, just 40 minutes from Paramount. At almost any beach in this stretch of coastline offers various places to rent kayaks for ocean kayaking and there are several places that charter boats or rent boats for recreational use and deep sea fishing alike. Another fun activity to try while on the Pacific Coast is surfing, there are lots of different companies that offer surf board rentals and surfing classes for beginners to advanced. Other activities along the beach include paddle boarding, parasailing and kite surfing. Or you can simply spend a lazy afternoon sunning on the beautiful beaches.

[dannofaust]

I have recently received several questions about where to access the Vermilion River north of Pontiac, Illinois. These questions came from local paddlers who have never experienced this part of the river. That convinced me to write this blog post about one of my favorite canoe/kayak trips in the Pontiac area.

Before I describe the Vermilion River, as it flows to the north out of Pontiac, I would like to take a look at the river and what it is like up until this point.

The Vermilion River starts at a small spring, between Roberts and Piper City in rural Livingston County. The first several miles of the river follow a waterway through a field and then continues on through little more than a roadside ditch. As the stream flows beside the gravel road it is choked by trees and all manner of brush and undergrowth. Even during periods of heavy rains this part of the river is unnavigable and not suitable for travel by boat.

The Source of the Vermilion River.

 Quickly though, this trickle of a stream begins to gain momentum as other waterways, ditches, and field tiles add to the flow. From there on out the Vermilion River follows a more natural course through the fields of eastern Livingston County. The course of the river is far from natural though. This part of the river didn’t even exist in its present state before this part of the country was settled and turned into farmland. Prior to that it was a huge marsh covering a large portion of eastern Livingston County and beyond.

As the land was cleared and the marsh was drained so that farming could take place, the river was significantly channelized, straightened, and dredged to facilitate the efficient removal of excess water from the surrounding fields. I have paddled this part of the river. It is a unique experience. The river banks are almost completely devoid of any trees. The banks are steep and mostly covered with tall grasses. The river is so narrow and banks are so steep and tall in this area that the only thing I could see, other than the river banks themselves, was whatever was visible in the distance as I gazed down the long stretches of the straight river course. As I neared the occasional house, barn, or tree that had been visible in the distance, they were obscured by the steep banks rising up on either side of me.

If you would like to see a few photos and read about a trip I did, covering this first part of the Vermilion River, go to “Vermilion River – Coming Home“.

 TRIP DESCRIPTION – Pontiac to Cornell

Trip length – 11.5 miles Shuttle – 11.2 miles, approximately 15 minutes, each way. See directions in Google Maps.

In contrast to the upper portion of the Vermilion River, the river north of Pontiac is still mostly in its natural riverbed. The character of the river is much more fluid as it twists and turns and meanders its way towards the Illinois River.

The river is almost entirely lined by wooded land, with the occasional house or barn visible as you pass by from river level. There is also the occasional country road nearby to remind you that civilization isn’t far away, but for the most part there is a remote feeling to the river. There are only four bridges on this section of the Vermilion River, and one of those is right after the Put-In and another is at the Take-Out.

I made a Google map of the Vermilion River. It includes mile markers, access points, and the location of the river’s source. The red markers are access points and the blue markers are mile markers.

When you follow the link to the Vermilion River map in Google Maps, you can click on the markers to reveal more information. The mile markers are just numbered, starting from the confluence with the Illinois River and continuing upstream to the Source of the Vermilion River. The access point markers contain information about the amenities offered at those locations and other useful details.

There are two paths down to the river. One is rough …

… and the other is rougher.

Poison Ivy! if you don’t know what it looks like Google it.

The Put-In for this section of the river is at a small township park on the North side of Pontiac. The park is little more than a gravel parking lot, a picnic table, and a bench. It is located at the intersection of County Road 1330 E and 4H Road. It is between the Pontiac Sportsman Club and the bridge over the Vermilion River. The paths from the parking lot down to the river are primitive. There are no step and no railing or handholds of any kind. If the weather has been wet, the paths will be slick and muddy. Use caution! Watch out for the poison ivy!

Upon entering the river you will almost immediately pass under the first of just four bridges on this section of the Vermilion River between Pontiac and Cornell. The fourth bridge will be the Take-out location. If you pass by that bridge you have gone too far.

There are many twists and turns on this section of the river. Some of them can be abrupt. Be aware that these tight bends in the river can hide log jams, strainers, or other hazards until you are very close to them. Be prepared to back-paddle or portage if necessary.

The entrance to Humiston Woods.

Humiston Woods Trail Map.

Pit toilets are located at the parking lot and the pavilion.

Trail to the Canoe Ramp off of the service road..

Trail up to the pavilion and picnic area, or you can just foillow the service road.

The pavilion and toilets at the top oif the service road.

Picnic area at the top of the service road.

 The best feature of this section of the Vermilion River has going for it is that Humiston Woods is right in the middle of the trip. It is a great place to stop for lunch and offers the flexibility to tailor the trip to your liking. You will know that you have arrived at Humiston Woods when you see the second bridge on this section of the river.

Humiston Woods has many amenities. There’s a canoe ramp, an ample parking lot, pit toilets, picnic tables, grills, pavilion, hiking trails and more.

If you find the entire trip from Pontiac to Cornell to be too long, you can do just half of the trip using Humiston Woods as either the starting or end point. For times when the river is low, you are on a tight schedule, you have small children and/or new paddlers in your group, the weather is really hot, or any number of other reason you may find doing a shorter trip is more enjoyable for everyone.

For many of us, having a place to sit in the shade while enjoying lunch is a real plus. Toilets of any kind are usually appreciated and preferred over doing your business in the woods too.

The logistics of getting your canoe or kayak to the river from the parking lot at Humiston Woods ( or visa versa ) is not ideal. A set of portage wheels makes the trip along the gravel service road much more pleasant than carrying everything on your back.

Parking along the North side of the road.

River access under the bridge is rough.

It’s rocky under the bridge … and when it’s not rocky it’s muddy.

Walk along this mowed area to the Northeast corner of the bridge for access to the river.

The weeds get tall.

The trip from Humiston Woods to the bridge just outside of Cornell is about 6.1 miles long. There is just one bridge to pass under and then the next bridge is the Take-Out.

This part of the river does pass by a few homes and near a road or two, but it also feels quite remote at times. There are several miles of the river where you will not see any buildings or other obvious signs that civilization is just a short distance away.

Rook’s Creek is one of the main tributaries along this part of the river. Look for it to enter on river left, about 2.5 miles from the Take-Out.

Please be careful to use the North side of the road and bridge at the Take-Out. The Southeast corner of the bridge is private property. The best access is on the Northeast corner of the bridge. This is another very primitive and undeveloped river access area. It is usually muddy or overgrown with weeds and brush. Take care to avoid slips, falls, and the occasional poison ivy.

“The best and most beautiful things in he world can not be seen or even touched … they must be felt with the heart.” – Helen Keller

Previous Post: “POSTPONED“

Next Post: “STAY TUNED for MORE”

 Vermilion River – Pontiac to Cornell I have recently received several questions about where to access the Vermilion River north of Pontiac, Illinois.

#canoe #Canoeing #Dan Faust #Glory Days #Humiston Woods #kayak #Kayaking #outdoor #river flow #river level #Vermilion River #water level

[thelionshoarde]

heading for a small disaster; part 1

I have no excuse! I started writing a magical au for obiyukiweek17 day 2 and lo! The first chapter is done and I have NOT YET touched the day 2 prompt. Regardless, here is this thing.

Mosquitoes swarmed the area, incessant and hungry. Tucked into a hollow above an ancient, gnarled tree limb, Obi re-applied his anti-bug charm for the third time. The moist, warm air sat heavy against his skin, slicking him with sweat, his clothing damp and stifling; but the marsh was made mysterious and interesting in the dark.

Nothing lit the gloom where he hid save the swollen moon, yellow and cragged and half-hidden by the trees. What light filtered through mostly caught on the duckweed, leaving the spaces between black as pitch. The splash of water somewhere in the distance - a fish, perhaps, or an alligator; one of those big, man-eating snakes he’d heard about coming closer, if Obi was lucky - kept him alert, curious. A whole world was thriving here, secreted away in the dark, and Obi found it both familiar and comforting.

Except for the frogs. It might have been mating season, Obi guessed. They were especially loud.

The raven came through just as Obi was trying to decide if that pale flash a few yards out was duckweed drifting by, or something more disconcerting. He snatched it from the air, mid-flight, its brittle parchment bones snapping in his grip. The spell broke. With a rustle of crisp paper its wings unfolded, and Obi tilted it toward a faint stream of moonlight.

Shirayuki, read the spider scrawl of blue ink, the letters dark gashes on the ghostly parchment.

Where had he heard that name before? Frowning, Obi caught a small herb sachet as it slid down into his waiting palm. He brought it to his nose, sniffing - but none of the scents were familiar to him, save that together they gave him the distinct impression of being medicinal. Only the lightest touch of magic was imbued into them; something crisp and competent, that pinched against Obi’s skin as he studied it.

He couldn’t place it - the magic or the name.

No matter. It wasn’t as though he needed a back story. If there was anything he needed to know to do his job, Obi was certain he’d learn it once he’d spotted the mark.

Pocketing the sachet, he let the kill order drift down. When the edge of the parchment nearly grazed the heads of a patch of milkweed below his perch, he jerked his finger at it, twisting a bit of magic along the arc of it. A shard of fire struck it on the fluttering edge. The heavy parchment caught, and a moment later ash drifted onto the murky waters of the marsh.

By the time the pale specks settled Obi was already gone, a specter in the dark leaving no trace. The night sounds never once ceased.

His tracking spell brought him through rugged lowlands and along a curiously curling trail over rolling hills, dotted with well-kept villages and towns. Obi stopped in one - Aeesghi, which was rumored to have the best beer on tap in the entire county, as well as a truly fine underground gambling ring - for just a night. By morning’s light he was richer by nearly seventy goia, a laugh caught in his chest and lip rouge smeared across his neck. Miles away from the town while a truly sour gentleman no doubt rampaged through whore houses trying to find that bastard Nanaki.

All in all, not bad for a solitary night’s mischief.

Fifteen goia went to buying a horse from a carter two towns over, and another week of hard travel found him boarding passage at a busy shipping channel, the waters rough and choppy and the seagulls mean, to bring him from Postilia to Rechiv. From Rechiv it was just a short stroll down the coast to the unmanned border of Tanbarun.

Obi squinted up the sheer cliffs, noting the roaring wind and narrow, rocky ledges. There was no way up but to spend an exorbitant fee for a mule that turned out to be far more malicious than the horse he had left at port.

In his pocket the herb sachet tugged homeward.

That was the trouble with tracking spells, he thought. They took you in as straight a line as possible, ease of passage be damned.

But the only other ways into the country were a full day’s journey in either direction, where he’d run the risk of checkpoints and soldiers. Might as well go the hard way. The easiest paths weren’t always the safest, in the end, and Obi had the scars to prove it.

At the top, the cliffs transformed into jagged mountains. Obi and the mule glowered out across the only available path. “There’s just the one,” the mule seller had told him, “And it’s treacherous at the best of times. Lead you right into trouble, too, if you’re not careful. Up there’s the Lion’s domain.”

Treacherous seemed too kind a description.

Obi wove hastily drawn spells to help the mule keep his footing, grasping at shadows before the noon sun chased them away, and tried to keep his breathing easy and light. So high, the air was thin and sharp; the fall no doubt long and hard. There was no room for a misstep.

Despite the danger, they came through with little trouble. Obi let the mule loose close to the village and made a path for himself, scrabbling down rocky inclines and using stubborn, stunted trees to ease his way back up, until the mountain he’d been climbing down began to settle into terraces that rolled more than they jutted, little valleys and coves opening up. Grass carpeted the ground and trees began to grow straight and strong.

A day later and Obi breathed a sigh of relief. The sachet tugged him straight to a moderate sized town half-way to sea-level before his tracking spell dispersed, job done.

Finally.

Time to pinpoint which of these townsfolk were his mark and be done with it. Climbing mountains was not his preferred method of travel, and he was tired of shaking pebbles out of his boots. He was actually starting to miss the frogs. The marsh may not have been his best choice for laying low between jobs, but it had its perks, and not being a mountain was apparently one of them.

Obi shook off dust and debris, pulled illusion and charm around him, enough to make him normal, to blur his scars and hide the cold glitter of his eyes, before heading into town.

Oh, he thought. Her.

Shirayuki stood in the center of a cobbled yard surrounded by kids. Tucked up high on a steepled roof, one arm hooked around a dented weather vane, Obi counted seven - no, nine - of the hairy little beasts romping around her full blue skirts. The goat herder was an aging man, but long of limb and agile, ducking down to nudge aside one of the kids before it nibbled a hole into the woman’s hemline.

Obi wanted to bring a breeze to carry their words to him, but after seeing the flutter of her hair, thought better of it.

The name Shirayuki had led him to the south-eastern outskirts of town, to the lone cottage of a Mage that Obi knew vaguely by reputation. The Mage of the Mountains, some called her. Obi had also heard Scarlet Witch hissed nervously from the mouths of more simple-minded folk. But that moniker was far out numbered by the reverent Red Lady that dropped from the lips of her more awestruck neighbors.

There were few enough who ever called his mark by name. No wonder he hadn’t realized who she was.

Obi pursed his mouth, considering the woman. She was small of stature, hands clasped politely at her waist. Even from this distance Obi could easily read the sharp angles of her body language: polite, but stern.

The goat herder bowed at the waist and led his charges down the road, ushering them out of the Mage’s yard with a line of frayed rope. Squinting, Obi managed a peek at the spell laid onto it - a nice bit of small magic, neat and tidy. No goat would manage to chew through the lead anymore, not even where it had been worn down to barely a few lingering threads.

And this was the woman who had lifted an entire village from its bedrock amidst a spring flood?

It hardly seemed likely; what Mage with that type of prestige would stoop to this level of paltry magic? There was strength in the spell she’d laid for the goat herder, but it was in the skill of it, how she’d interwoven each piece carefully into an interlocking whole. It lacked the raw power he had been expecting.

But the wind once again lifted the long tail of her hair over her shoulder, a banner of vibrant red.

There was no mistaking it. Only one Mage had hair that color in all of Tanbarun. Shirayuki and the Mage of the Mountains were one in the same.

Obi narrowed his eyes, unease prickling along the back of his spine. By all accounts the Red Lady wasn’t a trouble-maker. Obi hadn’t been aware of any conflicts. No whispers of enemies bent on revenge. Until this point it had seemed her strangest power was the ability to make friends with everyone she met. And while it was a skill Obi didn’t take lightly, he would hardly count himself as the norm.

What was a name like her’s doing on a kill order?

But - Obi forcefully pushed the question from his mind. It was not his place to wonder at the motivations of his employers, only to see the deed done. He tilted his head back, squinting at the passage of the sun.

Hours yet til evening, and though the daylight ate at the smoke and shadow of his magic, his illusions would hold for a while yet. Beneath the mellow autumn sun the red shingles were warm, and with a gentle breeze blowing in from the north Obi was content to loiter for a while. Maybe he could catch a nap, wait until the stars came out, washing the world in glitter and shine, to give him shadows to wrap round his body. The sleepy bustle of a mountain town was near enough to a lullaby, really; even if his illusion slipped with sleep none of these soft, milk-fed creatures would notice him, even out in the light as he was, a black blot against the day.

He propped himself on his elbow, craning his head for one last look toward the Mage’s quaint little cottage, a half-mile out from where he lay. She had a piece of scry-glass held before her eye, trained right on him. Obi could just see it glinting a cloudy blue.

“The fuck,” he yelped, leaping to the balls of his feet in a hunched crouch, tensed to run.

A frantic check told him his illusion was still in place - she shouldn’t have been able to see him. Shouldn’t have even noticed him. Even weakened with the sun full on him Obi was still a master at his craft, and some country Mage shouldn’t have been able to mark him. Not even one with her reputation.

And yet -

I was warned about you, whispered the wind. Zen said something like this might happen. Well. We’ve both seen each other, now. No point in pretending otherwise. Why don’t you come down and have some tea with me?

Zen? Obi thought, bewildered. She couldn’t mean that Zen - could she?

After only a second’s hesitation he pitched his voice back at her, swatting the breeze with his palm to swing it round: What an interesting offer. Don’t mind if I do! But you wouldn’t begrudge me taking a nap first, would you, Miss Mage? I’ve traveled quite a way.

Battered by the wind, her voice still came through dryly amused: I wouldn’t dream of it. You know where to find me when you’re ready.

Obi waited, watching as she dropped her arm, the distance too great for him to make out the expression on her face. Her shoulders, though, were still stiff, polite and stern. Probably she had been aware of him all through her exchange with the goat herder, waiting until the man had safely left before deciding to confront him.

Huh. Interesting.

Turning on her heel, blue skirts flying up as though in exclamation, Shirayuki strode in through the open door of her cottage. To Obi’s surprise, she didn’t bother to close it; he had gathered she left it open during working hours, to invite any of the townspeople to come inside, for poultice or charm, a warm welcome waiting for all. But that was before she knew an assassin had been sent to kill her.

What was she going to do if Obi took it as invitation as well?

With night came clouds; a storm rolling in from the south, causing the easy breeze of earlier to buffet and whip about. A hot cup of tea in doors sounded delicious. Obi swung down from his perch with a faint, predatory grin. Unlikely as it was that she had meant the offer, there was no reason he couldn’t imbibe after the job was done. He imagined a Mage known for her potions and tonics and healing touch would have many a special blend.

All he had to do was kill her.

His grin faded. Tension coiled in his shoulders, hands flexing with uncertainty. Knowing she could find him had chased all ease and carelessness from him; he spent the intervening hours between their first contact and now honing his blades, readying his spells, checking and double-checking the strength of the wards stitched into his clothes.

As much as he would have enjoyed that nap, Obi found it difficult to treat anyone perceptive enough to pinpoint his illusion with anything less than wariness and respect. Though she had yet to show the depth of power she was rumored to have at beck and call, it was more than enough to set his teeth on edge.

He should have known. Most of the more challenging, obstinate marks went to him, after all. Why would this Shirayuki be any different?

Just before her wards Obi paused, examining them. They were set up precisely across the entirety of the Mage’s grounds in a method almost elegant in its exactness. Obi took the space of a breath to admire the handiwork, unease once more scratching at his spine. But Obi was good at picking locks, at coaxing spells to budge over and give room, and it was only a matter of time before he’d found a corner he could pluck and pull at, tucking it in to make space between two rows of herbs in the back garden.

He crept in, wary of any silent alarms he might trigger.

But it seemed the Red Lady hadn’t thought to set anything further than base perimeter wards. The path to her little stone cottage was clear. Gaily painted shutters were latched shut, her door closed with the fall of night, but spools of golden light eked out between the slats. The ivy crawling along her stone cottage swayed madly, and the winds scattered the smoke from her chimney.

A circuit of the house gave him all he needed: the Mage sat in her front room, body relaxed, mind distracted. Perfect. Obi allowed himself to think that, despite the earlier surprises, everything really would be all right. No matter her skill set, she was no match for him in the dark. There was only one way for this to end. In and out, with barely a scream - his thoughts turned slow, hazardous, imagining blood down her throat, a stream of red to match her hair. The tension in his body eased.

Yes, he thought. Like that. No fuss, no drawn out game.

He could give her this, at least, the Red Lady, the Scarlet Witch, the slip of a woman who had pinned him with her scry glass and offered him tea. A kinder death than he’d given some. Thinking of the clever way she’d worked her wards, the intricate texture of the spell on the goats’ lead, he thought - I can be kind, just this once.

Obi drew the night down around him with a wrenching twist, until he was made of smoke and storm, the owl’s steady gaze and the bat’s silent wing. He became the dark heart of the sky between the stars; the waiting shadow of a shallow grave.

He ran into trouble immediately.

The only way forward was through the back door, the barest gap left open for him to pour himself through. On the other side Obi found himself in a homey sort of kitchen. Glazed tiles and checker-print curtains, an old, nicked table buffed to a honey-gold glow with a basket of bread set in the center. Dishes were drying to the side of a sink, towel still dripping next to them. Embers smoldered in the stove, an empty kettle set to the side.

The domesticity of the scene made Obi’s skin itch.

Treading carefully he headed toward the only available door. The kitchen led straight into the front room, a bare expanse of hall between. Obi could feel the clever folds that hid the rest of the Mage’s house from view, and he thought that, with time, he could wedge his way inside, unrolling Shirayuki’s careful system.

But he hadn’t the time - a fracture, hair-line but dangerous, had already begun to snake its way through his spell.

Obi hadn’t noticed the start. By the time he was aware of it the damage was already done. Stunned, Obi pressed his hand to the wall, papered in bright yellow with white vertical stripes, vivid against the black leather of his gloved hand. For a moment he stood there, staring wildly at the contrast. Somehow his illusion was unraveling. Obi had once laid on the side of a busy market street, bleeding copiously and half out of his mind, and still his illusion hadn’t dropped, not once.

What had this Scarlet Witch done to him?

Stubborn, he pulled the edges of himself together and held them tightly through sheer force of will. But the damage was done already; his easy confidence in the Mage’s yard was shaken, unease once more worming its way through him. Get a grip, he raged at himself. He flexed his hand against the wall, jaw tight. You’ve dealt with worse circumstances.

Just a few more steps and he would be in the room with her. Perhaps he was making more of this than he should. After all, she might be clever, but so was Obi, and it was for times like this that he trained with steel, with wire and arrow and the strength of his bare hands. He had nothing to fear when his magic was only one part of him, and not even the part that made him lethal.

He let his breath out in a slow, controlled exhale.

There was still a chance to do this right. From the front room the only noise came from a crackling fire, and the slow turn of pages as Shirayuki read. Obi could just see her bowed head, the fall of her bangs hiding her face, her bare feet tucked up beneath her. As he eased forward his feet made no noise, and his breath did not disturb the air. Obi was made of the waiting dark, the shadows out of view. But still a voice murmured: “Just a moment, please. I’ll freshen up the tea when I’m done with this page,” as he crossed the threshold into the front room.

Obi went still.

It was one thing for her to have found him that afternoon, scry glass in hand and sun high in the sky. Another, entirely, to have done - this.

The splintering in his spell widened, yawning wide. Thinking furiously, Obi let the spell grab hold of his own, prying at him with clever, meticulous fingers, and followed it out to see the scope of it. His breath left him in a startled rush as understanding set in.

Shirayuki had not wasted time with alarms. Instead, she had laid a trap so strange that Obi hadn’t registered it until he was well and truly caught within. It was as though the very nature of this place was pulling him into relief, setting him on display. The very warmth and hominess of her little cottage turned against him, calling into contrast Obi’s own magic, an obvious spill of nastiness, like soot tracked across her well-swept floor. He could practically feel it crowding him, very gently but sternly pushing him into compact form, giving presence to his very lack thereof. The spellwork had been so subtle, laid out with such a light hand, that Obi hadn’t even noticed until after it had taken hold.

He flickered where he stood, there then not.

Stars and stones, he thought, that is impressive.

Obi’s face crumpled in thought, curiosity plucking at him. The spell she’d laid was almost gentle, nothing to harm him, nothing to actually trap him. It merely took away his ability to hide, running on the same principle that the stronger the light source the deeper the shadows. She could have tried traps to bind his magic, to strip him of his ability to harm her, spells to maim or murder him - all things that Obi would have seen and dismantled with ease.

She had chosen, instead, to simply see him.

Sliding a dagger - etched with an anti-magic sigil directly into the steel - from his belt, Obi spun it on his finger. He had a clear line of view. The room was not large. Shirayuki sat in front of the fireplace, nearly in the center of the room. From where he stood nothing blocked the path his dagger could take to reach the tender line of her throat. He could risk it; take the chance that Shirayuki really hadn’t laid any more traps out of sight, that the one spell she’d cast was the extent of her cleverness.

One well-aimed throw, and she might be dead.

But - he eased the blade back into place, fingers lingering for just a moment. It had been a long time since he felt both off-kilter and delighted by it, and Obi wasn’t one to turn fun away when it presented itself to him. Shirayuki was - more than he had expected. As soon as he’d crossed her wards his plan had fallen to ruins.

Crossing his arms he leaned back against the wall. She was still his mark; Obi still had a job to do. But this was no simple in and out. Obi had a feeling that it would take more than one well-thrown dagger to end this woman’s life. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, he found himself almost eager to discover what would.

Obi felt a grin stretch at his mouth and let it curl there, crooked.

Time to change the game, then.

The Mage of the Mountains finished her page, placed a ribbon to mark her place, and turned to him with solemn green eyes. “You may join me, if you like.”

She gestured at the paisley-print chair beside hers, angled so that they faced each other. A full tea tray sat at a jaunty angle on the round table between them. Obi watched as Shirayuki placed her book on the clear space before it, and then rapped her knuckles on the teapot. It was ceramic, painted with red and yellow flowers nestled into curling, whimsical green leaves. Steam rose abruptly from the spout, eager to please. Apparently, Shiryauki had actually meant it when she offered him tea.

Obi let his spell go with a snap loud enough to sound like a thunderclap.

“Oh,” Shirayuki breathed, blinking. “You’ll give the townsfolk a fright if you keep that up.”

“Storm’s almost here,” Obi said easily, crooked grin firmly in place. “Surely a little thunder and lightning in the distance isn’t anything to be afraid of. They’ll never realize the danger.”

Those green eyes of hers narrowed, just slightly, before flicking away. She bent to pour water into two matching teacups, little sachets of tea leaves already waiting at the bottom. “I suppose not,” she mused, voice pensive. “I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way, please. And -” her eyes darted back toward him, gaze sharp, before returning to her task, “I really do wish you’d come and sit.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like sitting when other people are standing,” Shirayuki muttered. “I’m short enough as is, I don’t need to feel shorter.”

A faint flush crept up the back of her neck beneath where she’d coiled her hair. Now that he was closer, Obi could see that she was no great beauty, though she was pretty enough. A wide mouth, a pert nose, a stubborn chin. And those eyes, like still summer ponds, green and deep. The high neck of her dress only highlighted the graceful column of her throat, the elbow-length sleeves calling attention to the subtle strength of her forearms.

Hey now, Obi thought, lazily amused, am I here to ogle her or to kill her? Finding his gaze latched onto the curve of her waist, he figured it was both. He always had been attracted by competence.

“I would never wish to make a Miss as lovely as you feel inferior,” Obi sniped, finally pushing off the wall to amble casually across the room.

She set the teapot down onto the tray with a strident clink. “I never said anything about feeling inferior, especially toward you. Would you like honey or sugar?”

Obi laughed. “Neither, thank you.”

If he weren’t so curious - so mind-bogglingly stumped - about how to proceed, he would never have been caught dead in the chair Shirayuki directed him toward. It was a plump, stiff affair that Obi had to settle into cautiously. Usually he did his utmost to avoid chairs like these, which somehow managed to make all of his cultivated casualness awkward. The padding of the high back pushed him forward, so that he felt hunched over his own lap, uncertain what to do with his arms or legs.

If the kitchen had been enough to make him itch, the Mage’s front room nearly had him clawing his skin off.

Glow-globes floated gently near the ceiling, spinning slowly in an unknown orbit, so that the whole room was lit with soft light, cheery and bright. Her work room must have been tucked away in the hall, because the front room was nothing more than a parlor, a room to welcome visitors within. Book cases filled the wall from floor to ceiling in between wide, arched windows. Little ornate tables sat below with elaborate potted plants set atop them.

Every other spare inch of wall was taken up by beautiful beech-wood frames, dried flowers and herbs pressed between the glass. Behind them the fire was merry, crackling and warm, with a cauldron hung from an iron hook. A lid kept its contents hidden, but Obi smelt magic like spring rain bubbling inside. Across from them was a couch with a low table between, this one cluttered haphazardly with books and journals, pens and half-finished cups of tea.

Obi peered into one, dismayed to find something growing inside.

“That is disgusting,” he said, finally leaning his forearms onto his thighs. He tilted his head to watch her. Guilt flared across her face just as she dropped one cube of sugar into her tea with a loud plop. Obi grinned. “You’ll ruin this whole charade you have going on here if you leave these out and about, you know.”

“I don’t - I don’t know what you mean.”

Her hand hovered over the sugar bowl, tongs tight between her fingers. Obi snorted, drew power through his arm and sent all four dirtied teacups dancing through the air, into the kitchen. They landed gently in the sink.

“Oh,” Shirayuki said, looking down the dim hallway. “Thank you.”

Humming, Obi lifted his arm up in front of his face, examining the crooked knobs of his knuckles, his blunt fingertips. His thumbnail had a crack down it where he’d banged it too hard scaling a stone wall; there was a scrape circling half of his wrist, disappearing beneath the leather of his glove. Holding it there, he let his magic reach out and brush against hers.

She felt like a babbling creek, quick and strong, but not too deep at first glance - she slapped his magic aside, and Obi was surprised to find the cheerful force of her raw magic turned cool and nearly clinical with use.

Obi dropped his arm and admitted, “I didn’t expect you to notice me.”

“No? Not even as you killed me? I’d like to think most people are capable of seeing death when it’s right before their face.” The honest surprise in her voice had Obi looking at her again, just as she tried to sneakily add a few extra cubes of sugar to her tea. Obi’s throat tightened at the thought of how disgustingly sweet it likely was; he snatched up his cup before she could decide to give it the same treatment.

Obi was amused to note that the matching teacups did not match the teapot. “You think so? Hm, that seems very kind of you. Please, do keep on thinking such nice and innocent thoughts, regardless of reality.” When she sent a stern, unimpressed stare his way, Obi merely grinned brightly, asking, “Hey, what kind of tea is this?”

“The healthy kind,” she said smartly. “You look like you could use a whole pot of it. I didn’t expect my assassin to look so - scruffy.”

“Scruffy!” Obi yelped, a laugh caught in his throat.

Shirayuki squinted at him from over the rim of her teacup. “Malnourished?” she tried. “Er - no, that sounds worse, doesn’t it? Ah. Travel-worn, perhaps?”

The laugh spilled over, enough to send his shoulders shaking. Tea splashed over the rim of the teacup, touching his skin. He checked it quickly: not poisoned, or brewed to make him sleepy. No magic at all, in fact. The tea was simply tea. Still chortling, Obi brought it up to his mouth to try a sip, pleased to find it fruity and mellow.

“How about rugged?” he suggested, arching his eyebrow in a way he knew made him look rakish and charming. “Rogue-like?”

Both the Mage’s eyebrows shot up, lost beneath the messy fall of her fringe. “Ragged, maybe.” Her tone was perfectly dry, that sense of humor Obi had heard through the wind even more fetching when it wasn’t distorted. “Though you do look a rogue, I’ll admit. Fitting, I suppose. Were you really sent to kill me?”

Obi sipped his tea, thinking hard.

“I wonder. Tell me, Miss Mage, is there someone who wants to kill you?”

It was like watching a door slam. Shirayuki’s face closed down, and that was the moment Obi realized how cautiously open she had been in the first place. Her body drew in tighter on itself, fingers curling around the warm ceramic of her teacup. “I had hoped there wasn’t,” she murmured. Then, louder, “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern. Unless you are my would-be assassin?”

“For someone who hoped for a misunderstanding, you certainly didn’t leave much to chance,” Obi teased, flicking a finger toward her dress. “That is quite the slew of sigils, Miss Mage. How long did that take you to whip up?”

Self-conscious, now, Shirayuki smoothed one free hand over her knee. Wards and charms and protection spells were embroidered into the blue fabric with matching blue thread. Only close up was Obi able to make out the gleam of the spell-work. She was armed to the teeth with defensive spells. Even if she hadn’t noticed him, Obi wouldn’t have been able to lay a hand on her, not with her dressed like that. He’d made the right move in not throwing that blade.

“A friend of mine had it made for me.”

Obi sipped more of his tea, wishing he dared lean back in his chair. But he hadn’t the slightest clue how Shirayuki managed to curl up in it so comfortably. Magic, maybe. A secret spell known only to a few. He shifted in his chair, teacup held easily between his knees as he studied her.

“That’s some friend,” he said, soft. The dress must have cost a fortune.

Shirayuki’s face tightened.

Obi winked, and let his voice drawl out, knowing he sounded mean, wanting to see what she would do if he pushed, if he threatened: “I guess any would-be assassin would need to find a way past that dress to get to you, Miss Mage.”

The lid atop the cauldron behind them rattled, the potion bubbling ferociously for a moment. Shirayuki’s knuckles tightened against the handle of her teacup before she forcibly relaxed them. The scent of fresh rain and young, spring growth intensified.

“I suppose you may be correct,” Shirayuki said. “But as that seems very unlikely to happen, I think I’m quite safe, thank you. The dress is quite well-made, and I have more like it. Even nightgowns, if you would believe it!”

“Yes,” Obi agreed, voice grave. “I see a few sigils there - just below your left armpit - that make quite certain you are the only one who could take off that dress. But,” his voice lifted, became a curling, crackling tease, sharp and sly, “all your would-be assassin might need do is, ah, charm you out of it.”

“Charm me - oh!”

“That really is a fetching blush, Miss Mage,” Obi grinned from behind his teacup.

Shirayuki was flushed, her face nearly a red to match her hair. Every inch of her was turned prim and proper with embarrassment, her eyes snapping with outrage. Taking a bracing sip of tea, she cleared her throat before speaking. “As I said: that seems very unlikely to happen. I am not a fool.”

“No,” Obi agreed. “But I can be very persuasive.”

Between them, the very air seemed palpable, nearly crackling with sudden tension. Obi felt it throb through him, his hands very delicate against the warm ceramic, ready to drop it in an instant. Power crackled through him like the storm nearly upon them; the wind shook the shutters, as if called to brutality by Obi’s bold declaration.

Then Shirayuki’s feet slid out from beneath her, the long fall of her blue skirt rippling. Standing, Obi wagered that she’d barely come up to his collarbone. He watched her from beneath his lashes, not moving, yet, but every muscle poised for action. Shirayuki clutched her teacup in both hands, held awkwardly at her waist, and said, “I think you’ve had enough tea for one evening. Please leave.”

“Aw, come now, Miss Mage. Things were just getting good.”

Frustration tightened her mouth. Her chin jerked upward, obstinate, and Obi felt the shift as her magic crowded beneath her skin, clear and clean, like sunlight on waves. All at once his chair bucked him off, and he gave a mangled curse as he stumbled three feet before he slid into an easy stance, facing her, teacup held aloft by one hand.

“Didn’t spill a drop,” Obi taunted.

“Impressive,” she said, voice flat. “Now, if you would.”

Before he could react, the teacup was out of his hands, spinning swiftly through the air to return to its place on the tea tray. The front door swung open behind him. Obi hesitated, gaze heavy as he studied the Mage of the Mountains, still with a flush bright on her cheeks. Outside, a clap of thunder announced the arrival of the storm.

“All right,” Obi finally said, forcing his body into an easy posture. He let a smile take hold on his face, and wondered, meeting her hard gaze, what she saw without his illusions to soften the blow. “If you’re going to be like that about it, I guess I’ll go.”

Obi backed up slowly toward the door, hands outstretched at his sides as if that could possibly make him any less dangerous. He felt the press of the night at his back, the howling storm and the darkness, and let it comfort him. Shirayuki might be a tough nut to crack, but Obi would find a way. All he needed was patience.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he promised.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, don’t.”

Then his feet edged past the threshold and the door slammed shut, a bare inch from his face. Obi laughed, relieved and somehow not. Tension was jangled up inside him, impatience and curiosity. It felt as though the storm lighting up the sky overhead was somehow trapped within his skin, a seething tumult. In an instant he flickered, the night drawn down around him. He was shadow once more, flitting from the Mage’s yard as the rain began to pour.

He let the storm move him; ran along lightning and chased the wind, howling, letting the rain wash him clean, until he was nothing but flesh and bone again, breath rasping through his lungs, hair plastered to his scalp. He stumbled through the door to the town’s inn, surprising the night clerk.

“A room, if you please! And a hot meal and even hotter bath, if you have one. I’m afraid I rather got caught in a sudden storm, you see.”

“Ah - yes. Of course,” the night clerk stammered, reaching blindly behind him for a key while Obi dripped charmingly onto a rug. “Just for the night?”

In his mind he imagined her, red hair tangled down her back, a nightgown sewn with protective sigils fluttering about her thighs, the thin material brushing against her nipples with each breath; he remembered the stubborn set of her jaw and the snapping fire in her eyes, the steady cleverness of her mind. Obi smiled, a bare curl of his mouth.

“No,” he murmured, “I think I’ll be here for quite some time.”

#my fic #ans #obiyuki #heading for a small disaster #OBI IS NOT NICE IN THIS #just so you know #he's a bit bloody minded and threatening toward shirayuki #be warned #MAGIC AU #i used too many words again #sob

[nunoxaviermoreira]

Heathland at RSPB Broadwater Warren near Tonbridge Wells in Kent, England - August 2017 by SaffyH www.rspb.org.uk/reserves-and-events/find-a-reserve/reserv... About Broadwater Warren Set in the High Weald Area of Outstanding Beauty near to Royal Tunbridge Wells, big changes have been happening at Broadwater Warren. When the RSPB took over the reserve in 2007, it was a large conifer plantation with just a few remnants of heathland surviving. The vast majority of major restoration works have already taken place as part of our ten year project to restore the historic open landscape of the Weald and improve the surrounding woodland for wildlife. We have already recreated 65 hectares of open heathland by removing conifer plantations, with another 12 hectares to be restored over the next two years. Thinning out some of the conifers that were planted in areas of semi-natural ancient woodland has allowed native trees to flourish. By allowing light into our woods, native plants, shrubs and wildlife can thrive again. The heathland and woodland restoration will return the Broadwater to its historic habitat of centuries ago, a wildlife-rich mosaic of heathland and native woodland with scrubby woodland margins, scattered stands of pines and rare woodland mire. Lowland heath is now a rarer habitat than rainforest after almost 80 per cent of the UK’s heathland has disappeared since the 1800s due to forestry, agriculture and urban development. Our work here is a vital link in the south east, connecting other areas of heathland by restoring a lost landscape and reviving the traditional land management that originally shaped it. Threatened bird species like woodlark and nightjar have returned to the site, along with adders, bumblebees and butterflies, and new views across the landscape have been opened up. The pond is now a haven for dragonflies and frogs, visited by a kingfisher and heron, and the woodlands are being managed for vulnerable species like marsh tit and dormouse. Opening times Open all-year round with pedestrian access at all times. The car park is open from 9 am to 7 pm or dusk - whichever is earlier. Entrance charges It's free! Information for dog owners Dogs are allowed into the reserve, but they must be kept on leads from 1 February to 30 September, and under close control at all times for the protection of the threatened wildlife species that breed here. Owners are asked to use the bins provided at the entrances to dispose of mess. Star species Our star species are some of the most interesting birds you may see on your visit to the reserve. Goldcrest Listen carefully to hear the high-pitched, wheezing sound of our smallest bird, the goldcrest. Less than four inches (10 cm) long, these little warblers flutter around the trees to pick tiny morsels of food from the leaves and needles. Marsh tit Less colourful than other members of the tit family, marsh tits can often be seen foraging for food not far from the ground. Listen for their distinctive 'sneezing' 'pitchoo' call. Nightjar Linger until dusk to encounter this amazing bird between May and July. As the light begins to fade, listen for the mechanical 'churring' drifting across the heather. Keep your eyes peeled for nightjars darting around catching moths and for pairs performing their wing-clapping displays. Woodlark The woodlark is at home in a habitat of heathland and open spaces dotted with trees. Watch out for its undulating flight where its stubby tail and broad, rounded wings are particularly noticeable. Tree pipit Rather shy and difficult to approach, the tree pipit is very similar to a meadow pipit in appearance, but may be distinguished by its heavier bill, shorter curved hind claw and fine streaking on the flank. Seasonal highlights Each season brings a different experience at our nature reserves. In spring, the air is filled with birdsong as they compete to establish territories and attract a mate. In summer, look out for young birds making their first venture into the outside world. Autumn brings large movements of migrating birds - some heading south to a warmer climate, others seeking refuge in the UK from the cold Arctic winter. In winter, look out for large flocks of birds gathering to feed, or flying at dusk to form large roosts to keep warm. Spring Spring sees the return of the migrants that breed in Broadwater Warren. These include nightjars, chiffchaffs, whitethroats, woodlarks and blackcaps. Listen out for the 'drumming' of great spotted woodpeckers and the 'yaffling' of green woodpeckers. There are carpets of bluebells beside the stream and the wood ants will be busy building up their huge nests of pine needles. Brimstone butterflies are on the wing. Summer Warblers and yellowhammers will be in full song. Dragonflies and grey wagtails can be seen at the Decoy Pond and adders will be dozing in patches of sunlight. If you are lucky you might spot a white admiral butterfly nectaring on honeysuckle flowers. At dusk listen for the 'churring' of the nightjars, look out for 'roding' woodcocks as the males patrol their territories and keep an eye open for glow-worms along the trail edges. Autumn Migrating birds are leaving for warmer climes but the wood ants are still active and you might see the holes in their nests where green woodpeckers have been feeding. There are fungi of all shapes and sizes throughout the reserve - a particularly interesting species is the green elfcup that colours dead wood an amazing emerald green. Explore the boardwalk across the wet valley and listen for the sneezing 'pitch-oo' call of the marsh tit. Winter Look out for crossbills feeding on the pine cones and alder seeds and flying over in a flock making distinctive 'chip, chip' calls. This is the best time to see lesser redpolls, siskins and mixed flocks of tits feeding in the silver birches and alders. Facilities Car park : Open from 7 am to 7 pm or dusk, whichever is earlier. Height barrier of 1.95 m or 6' 4''. Bicycle racks for up to 12 cycles. Guided walks available Good for walking Viewing points No hides are necessary, but a viewing mound is planned for the future. Nature trails A waymarked nature trail leads you from the car park and along one of the many paths and around the reserve, past the decoy pond where you can sit and watch dragonflies and other wildlife on the water. The trail passes sweet chestnut coppice, high conifer and drops down to the valley mire - a rare wetland where our boardwalk allows you to venture across the bright iron-stained pools. How to get here By bicycle (Sustrans cycle route) The Forest Way, part of the Downs and Weald Cycle Route (National Route 21), follows the route of an old railway line from East Grinstead to Groombridge. It is about 2 and a half miles from the end of Forest Way on the outskirts of Groombridge to the reserve car park. By train The nearest mainline station is Eridge on the London Victoria-Uckfield line. From the station, walk north-east along Eridge Road. After 1.2 miles (1.9 km), turn right down Park Corner Lane and at the end of Park Corner Lane turn right along Broadwater Forest Lane. After 0.2 miles (0.3 km) on the right there is a gate into the reserve. Total distance 1.7 miles (2.7 km). Please note the walk is along country lanes with no footpaths. In addition, the Spa Valley Steam Railway runs from Tunbridge Wells to Groombridge Station which is 0.8 miles (1.3 km) from the first reserve gate and 1.7 miles (2.7 km) from the reserve car park. By bus The Arriva service 228/229 between Tunbridge Wells and Crowborough and the Brighton and Hove service 28/29/29A/29B between Tunbridge Wells and Brighton both stop on the A26 close to the reserve. The safest stops are at Eridge Green from where you can walk down Warren Farm Lane (next to Eridge Church) to the Sussex Wildlife Trust Eridge Rocks Nature Reserve and then through Eridge Rocks north into Broadwater Warren. There are stops at the Bunny Lane/Broadwater Forest Lane junction but walking along Broadwater Forest Lane to the reserve could be hazardous. Broadwater Forest Lane is a busy country road with no footpaths. By road From Tunbridge Wells, take the A26 south towards Crowborough. After 2.1 miles (3.4 km), turn right into Broadwater Forest Lane. Continue along Broadwater Forest Lane for 0.8 miles (1.3 km) and the reserve car park is on the left-hand side. Read more at www.rspb.org.uk/reserves-and-events/find-a-reserve/reserv... Accessibility 6 February 2013 Before you arrive Free entry Open all year round with pedestrian access at all times Car park and reserve open from 7 am to 7 pm or dusk - whichever is earlier Directions on website Registered assistance dogs, and other dogs on a lead and under close control welcome. Car parking Free visitor car park Accessed on Broadwater Forest Lane- a rural two-lane road without no pavement on either side Hard surfaced (rolled hoggin) Space for 30 cars in unmarked bays and bike rack Information board where you can pick up a trail guide (also available on website) No kerbs or steps and the gate onto the All-Ability Trail is suitable for wheelchairs and buggies. Nature trails Two interconnected, clearly-signposted trails from car park. Whole loop takes approx. 1-1.5 hours The 'All-Ability' Path is 700 m (approx 30- 40 minutes). It is flat, and hard-surfaced for the first section. There are wide kissing gates adapted for wheelchair and buggy users It then joins the Nature Trail which is 5.6 km (2.5 miles) long, with steep sections. This is generally unsurfaced, and can be muddy in autumn and winter. There is a section of boardwalk crossing ecologically important wet woodland, and narrower kissing gates Two benches along Nature Trail. 300 m (10 mins) and 700 m (30 mins) from the car park Along both trails there are permanent and temporary information signs, all of which follow See It Right guidance, and are visible from a sitting position. Viewing facilities One designated Nightjar viewpoint on All-Ability Path, without steps or doors. 200m from car park (approx 5-10 mins walk). Public toilets Nearest are in Tunbridge Wells, 3 miles (5 km) away. Catering Nearest cafes are in Tunbridge Wells. Future plans There are plans to introduce additional viewpoints and benches as the development of the reserve continues. For more information Broadwater Warren E-mail: [email protected] Telephone:[phone] Our work here 26 September 2014 Heathland restoration The RSPB acquired Broadwater Warren in 2007. The first step towards restoration of the heathland from conifer plantation took place in 2010. This involved removing dense young conifer trees and harvesting some of the mature pine and spruce. Since then, each winter, selected areas of conifer plantation have been removed in a carefully planned schedule, to limit the impact on wildlife. Large machinery is used to remove the trees, and the top layer of fallen needles and leaf litter is scraped away to reveal heather seeds which have laid dormant in the soil for up to 60 years. They have responded to the light and warmth of the sun and the areas that were first cleared on the eastern side of the reserve now have a thick carpet of flowering heather. Bees, butterflies and other insects have come back in earnest and track edges are now blossoming with wildflowers like purple self heal, common centaury and tormentil. Woodlark returned to the site in 2012 and bred for the first time in nine years. They nest on the ground and like the low vegetation for finding food. Tree pipits also returned and set up territories. In 2014, the open heath provided a home for nightjar, woodlark, tree pipit and skylark – all threatened species that make their nests on the ground. Reptiles like adder and common lizard also like warm, open ground, and we monitor their populations through regular surveys. Scrub loving species like yellowhammer, linnet and willow warbler can already be seen and heard along the scrubby margins and patches. As the woodland edges and heathland margins are managed and time softens the boundary between them, more scrub species like whitethroat and cuckoo will move back in. We don’t have a lot of gorse at the minute, but green shoots are emerging. As patches establish on the heath, Dartford Warblers and stonechats will hopefully return. Ponds The restoration of the Decoy Pond was completed in 2014 and has transformed the area from a dark and gloomy damp spot to a hive of activity and beauty. The removal of oppressive conifers and coppicing of birch and alder around the edge has opened up the water to more light and warmth. A variety of dragonflies and damselflies now zip across the water surface, a kingfisher and heron visit to pluck out the rudd, and in the island in the middle provided the ideal home for a pair of grey wagtails. The ‘dead hedge’ made from the cut trees provides a shelter for insects, mammals and birds, and protects the banks from erosion so that plants can grow again. Already, purple loosestrife and rosebay willowherb provide bright injections of colour as well as nectar for butterflies and bees. Visitors can now complete a loop around the pond thanks to the new foot bridge, and rest on a bench to enjoy the wildlife spectacles there. Other ponds and wetland areas have been created and restored around Broadwater, with more planned for the future. To keep our ponds a haven for wildlife, please don’t let dogs into the water. Woodland At the end of the ten year project, Broadwater will be roughly half heathland and half woodland. The woodland will be a mix of native broadleaved trees, with areas of coppice and interspersed pines. Open glades and sunny rides will create nectar rich corridors, full of flowers and butterflies. Areas of wet woodland and large oaks will provide homes for lesser spotted woodpecker and marsh tit, while the dense scrubby understorey will host rare dormice and song thrushes. We are helping native trees flourish by thinning the conifer plantations that have been planted throughout our semi-natural ancient woodland. By opening up the canopy, young trees can have the space and light they need to thrive, providing much needed diversity. We’ll be keeping some conifers for birds like crossbill and goldcrest, and planting native trees like field maple, hazel and hawthorn in some areas. Having many different species at different ages means more homes for more wildlife. Volunteers Volunteer work parties meet every other Tuesday and once per month at weekends. All work parties start at 10.30 am. The variety of work now being carried out on the reserve by the volunteer team is fantastic, ranging from Dormouse surveys to birch coppicing, from fencing to leading guided walks. Volunteers are also undertaking fixed point photography around the reserve, which will give us a fascinating record of the habitats as they return to their former glory. They have also been using coppiced wood to build benches so that visitors can sit and enjoy the views. We are grateful to employees from Goldman Sachs, the Royal Bank of Scotland, Churchill Insurance, Responsible Travel and AXA-PPP who have all got stuck in here to help with the reserve management. Funding RSPB Broadwater Warren has developed into a fantastic home for nature, helped by the tremendous support of many individuals, groups and organisations. In addition to RSPB members and supporters, local community members and a tireless team of volunteers, we would particularly like to thank the following organisations for their financial support: AXA PPP Biffa Award through the Landfill Community Fund The Chalk Cliff Trust English Heritage Forestry Commission via English Woodland Grant Scheme (EU and Defra funding) GEAR GrantScape through the Landfill Community Fund Gurney Charitable Trust Heritage Lottery Fund High Weald AONB Unit Sustainable Development Fund Ibstock Cory Environmental Trust through the Landfill Community Fund Natural England through Defra RG Group Royal Bank of Scotland SITA Trust through the Landfill Community Fund Veolia Environmental Trust through the Landfill Community Fund Weald Forest Ridge Partnership Scheme Wealden and Rother Renewal - Leader+ https://flic.kr/p/DDbtmd

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Walk 1: Postbridge to Brown’s House

“Every ruin gives you a clear message: Even your most durable things will turn into ruins!” ― Mehmet Murat ildan

My first ever blog! 

The pictures from this trail were taken a number of years ago. I got my first digital camera as a Christmas present. No more waiting for out of focus prints to come back from the developers! So on Boxing Day I took it on one of my favorite walks. 

it was one of those frozen snowed-in Christmases where nature is asleep and people stay indoors, and the Moor is silent except for the crunch of ice under your feet. The low sun made everything sparkle with a brilliant whiteness, as sharp and as fresh as though it has been created overnight and first revealed with the sunrise.

The destination of this walk was Brown’s House. Brown’s house is the ruin of a settler’s house in the middle of Dartmoor. There isn’t much left of it, just a few tumbled down walls and a couple of granite gateposts. Like most historical (and prehistoric) remains on the Moor there is a grim legend attached to it. This one concerns a farmer called Brown who built the house in this remote marsh to hide away his beautiful young wife. But the legend is untrue, and the real builder was a  Dr. Benjamin Haywood Brown, who in the early 19th Century decided to become farmer and and profit from  in the agricultural revolution, which was then (belatedly) happening on Dartmoor, and built a farmstead. Unfortunately the lease was too expensive, and the remoteness of the spot involved constructing a two and a half mile road to access it. It was sold on, and changed hands several times. The last written record of the farm was in 1829, and it was probably abandoned shortly after that. 

The ruins sit a just above a wide and marshy depression between the young Dart River and the Cherry Brook. To the west is Rough Tor and southwards is Lower White Tor. Northward lies the Central moors, the mire of East Dart Head and an open expanse for twelve miles or so to Okehampton

Walk data

Distance: Approximately 15 km, 9 miles

Grade: Moderate in summer, strenuous in winter or bad weather

Start and end point: Postbridge Car park-SX646788

Facilities: Post Office/Shop (sells good pasties), East Dart Inn (food and drink) in Postbridge. There is Coffee shop that sells hot drinks and snacks at Powdermills (a slight detour from the walk).

Transport: There are (infrequent) buses to Postbridge from Tavistock. There are usually different summer and winter timetables. The buses are operated by Target Travel, details can be found at http://www.targettravel.co.uk/timetables/  . By car: From Plymouth Follow the A386 to Yelverton, the the B3212 (via Princetown) to Postbridge (about 21 miles). From Exeter: Start from the west side of Exe Bridges follow Cowick Street. This eventually becomes the B3212, which will take you straight to Postbridge. About 22 miles

Map: Essential, as is a compass. Ordinance Survey Explorer OL28. The coordinates used here are in reference to this map

Walk overview

Forest track at first, then moorland, tors and some boggy areas. The trail starts on a recognized footpath, but from Powdermills there are no signed paths. There are a  few steepish sections up to the tors. A couple of small water crossings need to be made, one requiring care because of the banks are steep and rocky. A map and compass required, especially the start of the homeward part. Take waterproof clothing, even in summer. Good boots or shoes are vital. In winter or wet weather this trail can be hazardous. Always leave your coordinates and route plan with somebody. Mobile phone signals may be intermittent.

Route Map

Stage 1. Postbridge to Powdermills 

Start at the car park in Postbridge. Cross the road and head right towards Bellever woods. Turn right into the woods, and find a car parking space. There is a path ahead which forks. Take the right fork and follow the path (it’s more of a dirt road, because it is used by the loggers). Take the first right turning of the track and follow it for about a kilometer it until it is crossed by a footpath. Take a right turn here and after a hundred meters under the dark shade of the fir trees, you will come back to the B3212.(SX637776)  Cross the road and pass through the gate. There is a finger post pointing the direction. The path heads north west and then after a while turn south west. Don’t be tempted to cut this corner and head straight to Powdermills, as the path avoids an extremely marshy area, where you will certainly sink up to your knees in cold soggy peat. Even the recognized path can be very squelchy for days after rain. After about a kilometer (2/3 of a mile) the path crosses an old bridge over the Cherry Brook (SX628773- you will be crossing this again later, upstream where it is only about a meter wide) . 

Signpost in Postbridge

You are now in Powdermills. If you have time it is worth exploring. From the 1840′s until 1897 gunpowder was produced here, the isolated site chosen not just for it’s water supply, but because of the dangerous nature of the industry. There are the remains of the old factory buildings, some workers houses and a large chimney. There is even a Victorian mortar, which was used to fire cannon balls to test the quality of the gunpowder. There is now a pottery at the site, producing hand made crockery, and a coffee shop. You may wish to take the opportunity to get a hot drink as there are no more refreshments til you finish the walk.

Click here for more information on the history of the Powdermills

Part of the gunpowder factory at Powdermills

Stage 2. Powdermills to Brown’s House

This section of the walk will take you onto the open moor. Up to Lower White tor the trail is popular and well trodden. The last section, form Lower White Tor to Brown’s house is far less often visited, so a bit of map and compass work will be unavoidable, especially if it is misty.

The track from Powdermills leads (with a kink or two) almost north west across a wide area of moor, and then up a steep boulder strewn slope to Longaford Tor (SX615779). Longaford tor has two outcrops. The southern one, the smaller is the first you come to, and then heading north you come quickly to the larger.

From Longaford tor (the bigger one) you should be able to see Higher White Tor only about 500 meters away, due (almost) north east. Head towards its quite distinctive flattened cone shape Take a little time to admire the views from the tor (climb it if you are feeling agile).On a clear day you can see as far west as Cornwall. Just before the tor, almost due south is a neolithic stone row. It’s not a very spectacular one, and can be a little difficult to find, but if you do you can sit on one of the stones and admire a structure that was built over 4000 years ago.

There is a stone wall on the northern side of the tor, with a stile to climb. Lower White tor is north of this on a fairly clear track heading north. Take this path and stop at lower white tor.

The stile at Higher White Tor

Brown’s House is just over half a kilometer almost north west of the tor (SX614798). From the tor it may be difficult to see, even on a clear day. So take a compass beading on your map and follow it. The first sight of the house is the gateposts, standing forlornly amidst the wind tossed grasses.  

Having reached the destination of this walk, it is salutary (weather permitting) to sit on one low walls, with a flask of coffee and a packed lunch. There is something sad about remains like this. All the effort and ambitions that went into making the farmhouse that stood here have come to nothing. Without a name on the map, it’s doubtful that a passing traveler would even notice the ruins. But is is also inspiring: The very marsh that is encroaching on the walls, with it’s waving cotton-grass, and the reeds and mosses slowly obscuring the gateposts, show nature thriving and reclaiming the site. It is a metaphor for our lives.

All that is left of Brown’s House

Click here for a video of some trekkers approaching Brown’s house from the west (from Rough Tor)

Stage 3. Brown’s House to Postbridge

The return stage of the trail crosses Broad Down and the heads over a marshy area to finally follow the west bank of the East Dart back to Postbridge

Head back to Lower White Tor,and look north west. You will see the ground dip down and rise up again. This is the dip along which the Cherry Brook flows. The rise is Broad Down, and you will see a wall with a sharp corner on the lower slopes (see the photo below). Head for this and you will come to the Cherry Brook. It is not very wide here. Cross just below the corner in the wall. Further up it is wider and marshier and lower down it is steep and slippery. Care is needed to tripping on the rocks.

Broad Down and the corner in the wall, from Lower White Tor

Climb up to the wall and follow the northern part, heading more or less east, keeping the wall on your right. The ground will rise and then drop again. At the bottom of the slope is a muddy stream. You may need to search for a few minutes to find a suitable place to cross without getting wet feet. 

The Cherry Brook crossing, looking downstream towards Bellever Woods

Keep the wall to your right as you climb the slope out of the dip until you come to a gate in the wall. Turn right through the gate and follow a faint path downhill in a south easterly direction, crossing through another wall. There is a marshy area at the bottom, but a footbridge will help cross the stream down at the bottom.

Part of Broad Down

To your left is the remains of a primitive settlement where you can explore the relics of hut circles. After this the path is clear down to the wall that is the boundary of Archerton. From here the path follows the west bank of the Dart into Postbridge, where you can reward yourself with a pint in he East Dart Inn

The last stretch before Postbridge

Click here for images from this walk

#Dartmoor #Brown's House #walk guide #Dartmoor walks #Postbridge