The smell, as they approached, changed dramatically from the crisp clean air the snow capped ridge line had embraced them in, to one Terra could describe only as a humid soup of new and old growth. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, the undertones of mold and rotting wood mixed with something like mossy oak and freshly brushed horses. It struck her as being full of life compared to the long cold journey that led them to this, their final destination point. All that remained now was the descent.
Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).