It had been raining for days, and it was the first day with clear skies in weeks. The ancient waterfall was engorged with masses of water falling from high above into the pool below. Green moss covered the rocks, forever moistened by the wild waters. Large evergreen trees on the top of the rocks were leaning dangerously over the edge like they could tumble down any day. But strong roots were holding on to the rock and soil, trees that had withstood meteorological storms and the storms of time for hundreds of years. The waterfall had been there for thousands of years, and it would always be there. It had seen travelers refreshing on their journeys, washed animal blood off hunters, rinsed berries the women had picked, watered wild and domestic animals for centuries, had been there when the shamans worshipped their gods and sacrificed to the entities in realms beyond the human world.
