Feeh's Story - The Shattering of the Ford

Feeh leaves the ruined camp behind and enters a tighter bend of the mountain pass. The path drops into a narrow ford where black water runs over stone, and a caravan bell rings somewhere ahead through the fog.

At the far side of the ford stands a half-collapsed shrine of old white rock, its offerings shelf split open and its prayer ribbons soaked through. A lone mule shies near a wagon wheel sunk in the mud.

A hooded drover braces beside the mule, both hands raised. "Easy now, giantess. Take the grain sacks, and let us pass alive."

The drover drags one sack free and lets it thud into the mire, eyes fixed on Feeh’s greatclub as if expecting it to fall from the sky.

Feeh closes her hand around the drover and lifts them clear of the mud. Their hood jerks back as they gasp, boots kicking over the black water.

The wagon wheel groans deeper into the ford, and the mule screams, yanking its tether so hard the line snaps against the shaft.

Feeh bites down. The drover vanishes into her mouth in one brutal motion.

Coin and grain scatter from the drover's belt and bag as the struggle ends. One brass token skitters into the stream, flashing once before the current takes it.

Above the ford, the half-collapsed shrine sheds a wet ribbon and a loose stone clatters down beside Feeh's feet.

Then the caravan bell rings again through the fog, closer now, as if something unseen is answering the noise.

Investigate the nearer caravan bell