It was surprising to everyone how soon they came upon the Northern Chalks, in all of its heat and color. The white earth beneath their feet would, without warning, turn green or yellow, sometimes purple or red. One could see for miles, like a desert of grounded rainbows and porous snow. It was, indeed, a wonderful and mystifying land, but Zepp kept in mind the wisdom of Saint Wire. Beware the Fires that Chase. They were rare, sometimes absent for decades on end, but they were very real and very dangerous.
"How long do you think we'll be in this region?" he asked Tack, trying to not sound nervous.
"Well," mused the cartographer, licking his lips and taking note of things Zepp couldn't see, "we shouldn't be here long at all. That is, assuming we don't run into any... umm..."
Neither wanted to say it, but they both knew the possibilities. It was common knowledge, though typically considered a myth. They were sure Elwin had a plethora of songs about the Fires that Chase, but he needn't sing them. No one wanted to hear them. Though most treated them as myth, they still sent chills through the spine.
"Right," stuttered Zepp after a moment. "We'll just be careful, then, eh?"
Tack nodded in agreement, then veered off to the left to record some strange colors underfoot.
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