There wasn't much of a perch for my feet but I was out of the water and breathing. The unwelcome sight of the long snout coming clear of the water, along with its deep throated hiss, had me scrambling up the trunk of the fallen tree as fast as I could go.
Finally, I reached the bank of the river only to see my uncaring savior from a watery grave surge free of the water and head for me at a surprisingly quick pace. I scrambled up the deeply cut-in bank of the river. I slipped, but my foot found purchase on an old root. Shoving off, I muscled myself up and over the riverbank's edge.
Glancing down I surveyed my disappointed savior, who grumpily turned tail and headed back to slip beneath the surface of the water. Quickly I glanced around for the riders from Rollanic, but they were nowhere to be seen.
I could see tracks along the far shore that headed off downriver. I'd given them the slip.
Shaking from a mixture of fatigue and excitement I got to my feet and turned to see my first ever glimpse of the Wastelands. A chill swept through me as I looked out into the desolate landscape before me.
Resolutely, I stepped forward towards some nearby sand dunes, whose shifting sands whispered ominously. Not even mounted Rollanic Knights would follow me into the Wastelands.