The open cacao pod had resealed itself and now glittered with flecks of gold. I stuffed the pod into the bag, too, relieved to know that Queen Patchouli had been right and that our family talisman was intact. Imishi and I climbed up on Kir’s back again. Using the sun to get my bearings, I guided Kir along the route from my map. We cantered, walked, galloped, and walked again, until we came to a marshy-looking area. The ground was soggy and Kir’s feet sank into the mud. Gnarled trees draped with moss and spiky reeds grew at the edges and in the water. Hundreds of small islands, a few feet wide and a few feet high, were visible in the murky water. The path we needed to take was several hundred feet away across the water, but we had no raft or canoe, much less one large enough to carry a horse. The route that I had mapped out would take us around the marsh along the water’s edge, to where we would reach our next path. A mist rose from the surface of the water and a moldy smell hung in the air, giving me a really creepy feeling.
