The forest was a dark place sometimes, especially for those who didn't know it. The boy went deep in the woods, leaving the river and the patient batu back, trying to find the best route among the tall trees, stone walls and the thick foliage.

He was sore and limping, which made things very difficult. Crawling and jumping more than walking.

As always, a plethora of twisted trees along the way. Lichens, holly-trees, eucalyptus, cedar-almond trees, high-leaves, figs, bark-trees, acacias, buruleas, mendosas, and many other species competed for space and the distant light that could hardly cross most places.

"It was all because of witches" - the people usually said.

Not that Niquitt believed much, but also not doubted. For a long time, before he was born, the war had begun. There wasn't much that people without magic as he or the people who lived in Cascanoz could do. 

"The sorcerers were winning" - they argued, 

"The witches had to do something about it" - they chanted. 

And they did.

A witchcraft that went terribly wrong, made the world turn another. And now, even the witches did not know how to solve it. 

The "curse of the witches" - they said - "Turned the world upside down". 

From the verdant plain of the Passador to the strong currents of the Corridor, there was nothing that had not been twisted or crushed. 

Everything had been swallowed up by a world that twisted about itself and led the trees to grow on top of each other, covering the heavens and making almost everything dark and oppressive. 

People, of course, have learned to live like this, in a new way. That's where the woodmancers came, for example, and a dozen other occupations, such as extractors or jumpers - like Niquitt. It was what those born without magic could do. Settling into a new world.

Erstwhile, the elders told (of a time that only one can know by histories), the powerful river Corredor was the sovereign of the region. Everyone referred to the river for anyone who wanted to fish, swim or sail. Today the river was shrunken, hidden beneath thick roots and rocks, struggling to sprout here and there, forming a dozen pools as it traverses the entire Treetops Crows forest. 

The river divides into many arms, one of them forms the Great Stream, the river that leads to the house of Niquitt. It was not uncommon to find travelers or adventurers on the banks of the Stream to quench thirst, fish, or trade.

"Maybe I'll find someone in the river who can give me a lift" - he thought as he untied a piece of rope from the part of the wing structure. 

Without his wings and with his knees in pretty bad shape, the pace did not suit him very much.

From below he could see the long climb, climbing up roots, trunks, rocks, and vines, to reach the top of the easiest part to climb. He carefully scanned the possible routes, accustomed to finding and going through difficult trails while mapping the forests to the people of Walnutshell.

He tried not to hurt himself again, another slip, and he knew what would become of him. Food of algasoz, murimants or ...

... Niquitt hears a buzz...

- Spider praises ...! - he shouts, as he tries to leap out of the reach of a huge creature that has invested against him.