River Smiren The sun shined brightly, through the clear blue skies, that morning. It's late spring and the forest is as green as ever. Going steady was the utterly famous River Smiren. Always choosing to flow south, this calm stretch of water has seen as much blood as it has water. Its importance, as a trade route and a strategic landmark, has thrown the river in the middle of many armies of factions that have long since passed. It's a cetainty that in any conflict, that requires men and women to fight, will see the River Smiren. With the way the times are heading, there will be more battles to come. There is much unrest, in these trees. Kings and Queens rule and when they decide the time is right, the river will have to carry a warrior's blood away again. "Whoa, Henry." The horse's hooves made a few more thumbs on the soil, before coming to an actual stop. The leather saddle wheezed as the large man came off of it. They have been on the run for a couple of days now, and they had no more food. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, other than the Crimson Smiren. Luckily, he was able to get his fishing gear onto the horse before the running began. Taking off all of his things and the saddle, the horse took to drinking from the river. Brave creature. Or ignorant. One of the two. Ox couldn't tell which it was. He stuck his hand into the earth and ripped a hole. "Worms on the first try? Good." He grabbed one and stuck it on the end of his hook and quickly cast out. The line went off to the right, because the river flowed left. Every so often he would need to re cast, because a floating worm was suspicious. Meanwhile, he layed there, watching the sunrise take it's full form.