THE Strand of Broken Scales was aptly named.
Noah had traveled enough terrain across enough domains to appreciate when a place had earned its designation rather than been assigned one, and this stretch of coast and ancient forest had earned it.
The rock formations along the waterline had the fractured quality of surfaces that had been subjected to more force than they were built to contain, the breaks clean in some places and jagged in others.
The forest floor was no different. Roots broke through the dark soil in configurations that suggested the growth underneath was competing rather than cooperating, each system pressing against the others for the same limited substrate, the result a terrain that was beautiful and treacherous in the same motion.
He had always liked places like this.
There was an honesty to some places. It asked you to be present, and in return it rewarded the presence.
