The sheltered cove was not the end and the journey was not yet done, but in the sun cast rust colored waters of this brief sanctuary, the river rest
he river cut through the earth, deep and dark. Its water seemed almost thick as it caught the blinding light of the sun and focused it into brilliant shimmers. The sound of the falls permeated the woodlands from any distance, though it was less of a roar and more of a whisper. It wasn’t until emerging on the banks that one could identify the sounds as a waterfall, before that it was just the din and mummer of the pines. The falls pulled the the water quickly, giving birth to a brief flutter of a white ripple amidst the otherwise deep black ichor. Like the ethereal fluid that flowed as the blood of gods, the river carried and cut through the forest like an artery. Building and swelling, the water quickened and then rose, freezing for just a moment at the crest of the falls, the apex in its life, and then slipped over the edge. A churning cauldron of froth and foam awaited it, and it spun and plunged at a dizzying pace into an infinite number of directions. Until it eventually the deep cuts made by the currents slowed and shallowed, and the blood of the forest changed from a quick deep black to a gentle relaxed rust. Bumping against a grassy embankment the force of the falls abated and the water rested. Any remnants of current or ripples cast their curious moving shadows on the murky silt below, and gentle grasses swayed lazily as if their were a breeze. The sheltered cove was not the end and the journey was not yet done, but in the sun-cast rust colored waters of this brief sanctuary, the river rested.