The continuous mountain range rises and falls in the distance, and the endless forest stretches towards the horizon. From the bow of the Great Snow Wolf, looking towards the banks of the Great River, the dense, sturdy trees almost filled the view.
Aside from trees, there are still trees, everywhere there are trees. Below the trees is moist, soft black soil, covered by thick layers of leaves and pine needles. In places where trees are sparse, there are traces of water. The flood from the rainy season seems to have just receded. Moist, sticky, mixed; the air is full of humid vapor and the scent of decayed leaves. And the stretches of swamp, piece after piece, appear to be overgrown with grass, but stepping on it finds no bottom and can directly swallow a person.
