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Hope returns and your spirits rise with the expectation of finding the lost temple beyond the isle of red rock. You set off without delay, anxious to cover the ten-mile trek before the sun sets and darkness engulfs the Danarg.
For the most part the swamp mire is firm underfoot and the inhabitants pose no problems that cannot be solved by a few shouts or well-placed weapon blows. But, as the sky darkens and you draw nearer to the plateau, the going becomes more difficult. A carpet of vines, thick with mould, covers a surface of muddy holes and hollows. Often a seeming puddle proves to be a bottomless fissure. Progress becomes so slow that you fear you will never reach the island before dark.
