I hissed, as if I could scare the water into halting its flow. I knew that I could cross it, and there was even a bridge lowered down over it conveniently, as if someone had wanted me to cross it, but I hesitated where I was anyhow. Something about the sound of the rushing water, the sight of its constant motion, even the fresh, clean scent of it scared me nearly stiff. It felt somehow wrong, like a betrayal of my nature to cross here. I pulled my eyes from the water and looked up at the wall beyond. I could feel it there, the thing I had come for, the sun-soul that had haunted my dreams and starved me with the memory of its taste, made me feel this untamed thirst within me that could been quenched by no other. I set one foot on the bridge, another sharp stab of wrongness twisting my gut. Then I put my other foot in front of that one, and so on. I would cross this river. And then I would finally drink the sun. I could feel it growing closer and closer, each step I took sending waves of heat through me.
