The party looked out over the snow-covered forests, exhausted. They'd been fleeing the King's parties for days now, and had finally reached the dreaded Shrouded Vale. Legends spoke of something that hid in the mists, eating the indolent as soon as they stopped to rest. But they had to cross it to get to safety. They felt dozens of eyes on them as they set off to cross the dangerous territory.
Above ten thousand feet, April showers don't bring May flowers. They bring more snow, making hikes especially surreal. On this day, it was nearly fifty degrees as I was hiking above Nymph Lake to Dream Lake. I never made it, though, as I'd forgotten to pack my actual hiking boots and had to turn back.
