#Buffalo River Trail

[fortheloveofwanderlustblog]

What I Learned by Not Finishing the Buffalo River Trail in One Weekend

[builtoutoflove]

[beggars-opera]

We all remember the joys of playing Oregon Trail at school. What could be more exciting than trying to ford a river or hunting buffalo? Well, in reality, wild game could be hard to come by in the winter months, and those who braved the trail often had to resort to unorthodox methods of finding food. Pack your wagons, we're heading into the Sierra Nevada in the winter of 1846 to try some struggle meals, this time on Tasting History

[xtruss]

Native Tribe To Get Back Land 160 Years After Largest Mass Hanging In US History

Upper Sioux Agency state park in Minnesota, where bodies of those killed after US-Dakota war are buried, to be transferred

— Associated Press | Sunday 3 September, 2023

The Upper Sioux Agency State Park near Granite Falls, Minnesota. Photograph: Trisha Ahmed/AP

Golden prairies and winding rivers of a Minnesota state park also hold the secret burial sites of Dakota people who died as the United States failed to fulfill treaties with Native Americans more than a century ago. Now their descendants are getting the land back.

The state is taking the rare step of transferring the park with a fraught history back to a Dakota tribe, trying to make amends for events that led to a war and the largest mass hanging in US history.

“It’s a place of holocaust. Our people starved to death there,” said Kevin Jensvold, chairman of the Upper Sioux Community, a small tribe with about 550 members just outside the park.

The Upper Sioux Agency state park in south-western Minnesota spans a little more than 2 sq miles (about 5 sq km) and includes the ruins of a federal complex where officers withheld supplies from Dakota people, leading to starvation and deaths.

Decades of tension exploded into the US-Dakota war of 1862 between settler-colonists and a faction of Dakota people, according to the Minnesota Historical Society. After the US won the war, the government hanged more people than in any other execution in the nation. A memorial honors the 38 Dakota men killed in Mankato, 110 miles (177km) from the park.

Jensvold said he has spent 18 years asking the state to return the park to his tribe. He began when a tribal elder told him it was unjust Dakota people at the time needed to pay a state fee for each visit to the graves of their ancestors there.

Native American tribe in Maine buys back Island taken 160 years ago! The Passamaquoddy’s purchase of Pine Island for $355,000 is the latest in a series of successful ‘land back’ campaigns for indigenous people in the US. Pine Island. Photograph: Courtesy the writer, Alice Hutton. Friday 4 June, 2021

Lawmakers finally authorized the transfer this year when Democrats took control of the house, senate and governor’s office for the first time in nearly a decade, said State Senator Mary Kunesh, a Democrat and descendant of the Standing Rock Nation.

Tribes speaking out about injustices have helped more people understand how lands were taken and treaties were often not upheld, Kunesh said, adding that people seem more interested now in “doing the right thing and getting lands back to tribes”.

But the transfer also would mean fewer tourists and less money for the nearby town of Granite Falls, said Mayor Dave Smiglewski. He and other opponents say recreational land and historic sites should be publicly owned, not given to a few people, though lawmakers set aside funding for the state to buy land to replace losses in the transfer.

The park is dotted with hiking trails, campsites, picnic tables, fishing access, snowmobiling and horseback riding routes and tall grasses with wildflowers that dance in hot summer winds.

“People that want to make things right with history’s injustices are compelled often to support action like this without thinking about other ramifications,” Smiglewski said. “A number, if not a majority, of state parks have similar sacred meaning to Indigenous tribes. So where would it stop?”

In recent years, some tribes in the US, Canada and Australia have gotten their rights to ancestral lands restored with the growth of the Land Back movement, which seeks to return lands to Indigenous people.

‘It’s a powerful feeling’: the Indigenous American tribe helping to bring back buffalo 🦬! Matt Krupnick in Wolakota Buffalo Range, South Dakota. Sunday 20 February, 2022. The Wolakota Buffalo Range in South Dakota has swelled to 750 bison with a goal of reaching 1,200. Photograph: Matt Krupnick

A National Park has never been transferred from the US government to a tribal nation, but a handful are Co-managed with Tribes, including Grand Portage National Nonument in northern Minnesota, Canyon de Chelly National Monument in Arizona and Glacier Bay National Park in Alaska, Jenny Anzelmo-Sarles of the National Park Service said.

This will be the first time Minnesota transfers a state park to a Native American community, said Ann Pierce, director of Minnesota State Parks and trails at the natural resources department.

Minnesota’s transfer, expected to take years to finish, is tucked into several large bills covering several issues. The bills allocate more than $6m to facilitate the transfer by 2033. The money can be used to buy land with recreational opportunities and pay for appraisals, road and bridge demolition and other engineering.

Chris Swedzinski and Gary Dahms, the Republican lawmakers representing the portion of the state encompassing the park, declined through their aides to comment about their stances on the transfer.

— The Guardian USA

[farmobileo3]

The mighty Buffalo Soldiers !!

Bob Marley wrote a song about them :)

Their accomplishments:

* Created an arboretum along the South Fork of the Merced River in Yosemite near today's Wawona. Widely considered the first marked nature trail and museum in a national park. (1904)

* Constructed the first usable wagon road into the Giant Forest of Sequoia National Park. Some of the oldest, largest trees on the planet. (1903)

* Cut a trail up rugged Mt. Whitney; at 14,505 feet, the tallest peak in the contiguous United States. (1903)

* Served as official escort from San Francisco to Yosemite for President Theodore Roosevelt's historic visit. The 9th Cavalry had the honors, led by Captain Charles Young. (1903)

[fxdltc88]

Michigan's first trails were not made by native Americans but ranging buffalo herds in migration. This was especially true on the St. Joseph trail in Southwest Michigan. The major trails in lower Michigan tended to link Indian settlements of Mackinac, Detroit, Saginaw, and Niles. The area around Saginaw had the most native American settlements in the Great Lakes region.

Noted below are native trails that we travel everyday.

Shore Line Trail - A minor trail starting near Toledo and hugging Lake Erie's shore, the Straits of Detroit. Past Fort Gratiot and Lake Huron to a spot near White Rock. White Rock was considered a solemn spiritual place of offering. Today this route is mirrored by Lakeshore Drive from Detroit to Lexington and M-25 north. This trail continues north along the entire shore to Cheboygan. It was considered a minor trail as travel via canoe was preferred along this route. Michigan chose to utilize much of the original Native American trail along Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay to create M-25. Paving of Michigan's First Scenic Highway was started in 1933 and completed in 1940.

Saginaw Trail - One of the oldest trails, this Sauk trail system, went from the Straits of Detroit to Saginaw. Today this starts at the Detroit River and heads northwest up Woodward Avenue to Pontiac, then continues up Dixie Highway through Flint to Saginaw.

Sand Ridge Indian Trail - An ancient trail from Saginaw to Port Austin in Michigan's Thumb. Used primarily for access to the rich hunting ground of the Thumb. Today, M-25 follows much of the same route. However, the old trail is still evident and marked as Sand Road in Huron County. A major canoe passage across Saginaw Bay occurred at Oak Point via Charity Island to reach the AuSable River.

St. Joseph's Trail - A major east-west system called Route du Sieur de la Salle and the Territorial Road. When the Territorial road was first built from Plymouth to St Joseph, a portion of the road was ‘corduroy.’ which means wood lo

[her-canine-teeth]

a wagon (its pace is frightening) blazes down a trail toward a family of 3 buffalos on the trail. youre at a lever and are able to pull it so the wagon will change paths and drive towards a gap in the road (its a river, dad, its called a river)

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[patheticbatman]

The 50th Win A Commission contest was The Neverending Story by Michael Ende! If you’d like to see my drawings with the text, please

Chapter III - Morla the Aged One

Cairon, the old black centaur, sank back on his bed of furs as Artax's hoofbeats were dying away. After so much exertion he was at the end of his strength. The women who found him next day in Atreyu's tent feared for his life. And when the hunters came home a few days later, he was hardly any better, but he managed nevertheless to tell them why Atreyu had ridden away and would not be back soon. As they were all fond of the boy, their concern for him made them grave. Still, they were proud that the Childlike Empress had chosen him for the Great Quest - though none claimed to understand her choice.

Old Cairon never went back to the Ivory Tower. But he didn't die and he didn't stay with the Greenskins in the Grassy Ocean. His destiny was to lead him over very different and unexpected pathways. But that is another story and shall be told another time.

That same night Atreyu rode to the foot of the Silver Mountains. It was almost morning when he finally stopped to rest. Artax grazed a while and drank water from a small mountain stream. Atreyu wrapped himself in his red cloak and slept a few hours. But when the sun rose, they were already on their way.

On the first day they crossed the Silver Mountains, where every road and trail was known to them, and they made quick progress. When he felt hungry, the boy ate a chunk of dried buffalo meat and two little grass-seed cakes that he had been carrying in his saddlebag - originally they had been intended for his hunt.

"Exactly," said Bastian. "A man has to eat now and then."

He took his sandwich out of his satchel, unwrapped it, broke it carefully in two pieces, wrapped one of them up again and put it away. Then he ate the other.

Recess was over. Bastian wondered what his class would be doing next. Oh yes, geography, with Mrs Flint. You had to reel off rivers and their tributaries, cities, population figures, natural resources, and industries. Bastian shrugged his shoulders and went on reading.

By sunset the Silver Mountains lay behind them, and again they stopped to rest. That night Atreyu dreamed of purple buffaloes. He saw them in the distance, roaming over the Grassy Ocean, and he tried to get near them on his horse. In vain. He galloped, he spurred his horse, but they were always the same distance away.

The second day they passed through the Singing Tree Country. Each tree had a different shape, different leaves, different bark, but all of them in growing - and this was what gave the country its name - made soft music that sounded from far and near and joined in a mighty harmony that hadn't its like for beauty in all Fantastica. Riding through this country wasn't entirely devoid of danger, for many a traveler had stopped still as though spellbound and forgotten everything else. Atreyu felt the power of these marvelous sounds, but didn't let himself be tempted to stop.

The following night he dreamed again of purple buffaloes. This time he was on foot, and a great herd of them was passing. But they were beyond the range of his bow, and when he tried to come closer, his feet clung to the ground and he couldn't move them. His frantic efforts to tear them loose woke him up. He started out at once, though the sun had not yet risen.

The third day, he saw the Glass Tower of Eribo, where the inhabitants of the region caught and stored starlight. Out of the starlight they made wonderfully decorative objects, the purpose of which, however, was known to no one in all Fantastica but their makers.

He met some of these folk; little creatures they were, who seemed to have been blown from glass. They were extremely friendly and provided him with food and drink, but when he asked them who might know something about the Childlike Empress's illness, they sank into a gloomy, perplexed silence.

The next night Atreyu dreamed again that the herd of purple buffaloes was passing. One of the beasts, a particularly large, imposing bull, broke away from his fellows and slowly, with no sign of either fear or anger, approached Atreyu. Like all true hunters, Atreyu knew every creature's vulnerable spot, where an arrow wound would be fatal. The purple buffalo put himself in such a position as to offer a perfect target. Atreyu fitted an arrow to his bow and pulled with all his might. But he couldn't shoot. His fingers seemed to have grown into the bowstring, and he couldn't release it.

Over the shoulder, Atreyu aiming at the bison facing him, while on Artax. Sunrise, kind of scenery.

Each of the following nights he dreamed something of the sort. He got closer and closer to the same purple buffalo - he recognized him by a white spot on his forehead - but for some reason he was never able to shoot the deadly arrow.

During the days he rode farther and farther, without knowing where he was going or finding anyone to advise him. The golden amulet he wore was respected by all who met him, but none had an answer to his question.

One day he saw from afar the flaming streets of Salamander, the city whose inhabitants' bodies are of fire, but he preferred to keep away from it. He crossed the broad plateau of the Sassafranians, who are born old and die when they become babies. He came to the jungle temple of Muwamath, where a great moonstone pillar hovers in midair, and he spoke to the monks who lived there. And again no one could tell him anything.

He had been traveling aimlessly for almost a week, when on the seventh day and the following night two very different encounters changed his situation and state of mind. Cairon's story of the terrible happenings in all parts of Fantastica had made an impression on him, but thus far the disaster was something he had only heard about. On the seventh day he was to see it with his own eyes.

Toward noon, he was riding through a dense dark forest of enormous gnarled trees. This was the same Howling Forest where the four messengers had met some time before. That region, as Atreyu knew, was the home of bark trolls. These, as he had been told, were giants and giantesses, who themselves looked like gnarled tree trunks. As long as they stood motionless, as they usually did, you could easily mistake them for trees and ride on unsuspecting. Only when they moved could you see that they had branch like arms and crooked, rootlike legs. Though exceedingly powerful, they were not dangerous - at most they liked to play tricks on travelers who had lost their way.

Atreyu had just discovered a woodland meadow with a brook twining through it, and had dismounted to let Artax drink and graze. Suddenly he heard a loud crackling and thudding in the woods behind him.

Three bark trolls emerged from the woods and came toward him. A cold shiver ran down his spine at the sight of them. The first, having no legs or haunches, was obliged to walk on his hands. The second had a hole in his chest, so big you could see through it. The third hopped on his right foot, because the whole left half of him was missing, as if he had been cut through the middle.

When they saw the amulet hanging from Atreyu's neck, they nodded to one another and came slowly closer.

"Don't be afraid," said the one who was walking on his hands, and his voice sounded like the groaning of a tree. "We're not exactly pretty to look at, but in this part of Howling Forest there's no one else left who might warn you. That's why we've come."

"Warn?" Atreyu asked. "Against what?"

"We've heard about you," moaned the one with the hole in his chest."And we've been told about your Quest. Don't go any further in this direction, or you'll be lost."

"The same thing will happen to you as happened to us," sighed the halved one."Would you like that?"

"What has happened to you?" Atreyu asked.

"The Nothing is spreading," groaned the first."It's growing and growing, there's more of it every day, if it's possible to speak of more nothing. All the others fled from Howling Forest in time, but we didn't want to leave our home. The Nothing caught us in our sleep and this is what it did to us."

"Is it very painful?" Atreyu asked.

"No," said the second bark troll, the one with the hole in his chest."You don't feel a thing. There's just something missing. And once it gets hold of you, something more is missing every day. Soon there won't be anything left of us."

"In what part of the woods did it begin?" Atreyu asked.

"Would you like to see it?" The third troll, who was only half a troll, turned to his fellow sufferers with a questioning look. When they nodded, he said: "We'll take you to a place where there's a good view of it. But you must promise not to go any closer. If you do, it will pull you in."

"All right," said Atreyu."I promise."

The three turned about and made for the edge of the forest. Leading Artax by the bridle, Atreyu followed them. For a while they went this way and that way between enormous trees, then finally they stopped at the foot of a giant tree so big that five grown men holding hands could scarcely have girdled it.

"Climb as high as you can," said the legless troll, "and look in the direction of the sunrise. Then you'll see - or rather not see it."

Atreyu pulled himself up by the knots and bumps on the tree. He reached the lower branches, hoisted himself to the next, climbed and climbed until he lost sight of the ground below him. Higher and higher he went; the trunk grew thinner and the more closely spaced side branches made it easier to climb. When at last he reached the crown, he turned toward the sunrise. And then he saw it: The tops of the trees nearest him were still green, but the leaves of those farther away seemed to have lost all color; they were gray. A little farther on, the foliage seemed to become strangely transparent, misty, or, better still, unreal. And farther still there was nothing, absolutely nothing. Not a bare stretch, not darkness, not some lighter color; no, it was something the eyes could not bear, something that made you feel you had gone blind. For no eye can bear the sight of utter nothingness. Atreyu held his hand before his face and nearly fell off his branch. He clung tight for a moment, then climbed down as fast as he could. He had seen enough. At last he really understood the horror that was spreading through Fantastica.

When he reached the foot of the great tree, the three bark trolls had vanished. Atreyu swung himself into the saddle and galloped as fast as Artax would carry him in the direction that would take him away from this slowly but irresistibly spreading Nothing. By nightfall he had left Howling Forest far behind him; only then did he stop to rest.

That night a second encounter, which was to give his Great Quest a new direction, awaited him.

He dreamed - much more distinctly than before - of the purple buffalo he had wanted to kill. This time Atreyu was without his bow and arrow. He felt very, very small and the buffalo's face filled the whole sky. And the face spoke to him. He couldn't understand every word, but this is the gist of what it said: "If you had killed me, you would be a hunter now. But because you let me live, I can help you, Atreyu. Listen to me! There is, in Fantastica, a being older than all other beings. In the north, far, far from here, lie the Swamps of Sadness. In the middle of those swamps there is a mountain, Tortoise Shell Mountain it's called. There lives Morla the Aged One. Go and see Morla the Aged One."

Then Atreyu woke up.

The clock in the belfry struck twelve. Soon Bastian's classmates would be going down to the gym for their last class. Today they'd probably be playing with the big, heavy medicine ball which Bastian handled so awkwardly that neither of the two teams ever wanted him. And sometimes they played with a small hard rubber ball that hurt terribly when it hit you. Bastian was an easy mark and was always getting hit full force. Or perhaps they'd be climbing rope - an exercise that Bastian especially detested. Most of the others would be all the way to the top while he, with his face as red as a beet, would be dangling like a sack of flour at the very bottom of the rope, unable to climb as much as a foot. They'd all be laughing their heads off. And Mr. Menge, the gym teacher, had a special stock of gibes just for Bastian.

Bastian would have given a good deal to be like Atreyu. He'd have shown them.

He heaved a deep sigh.

Atreyu rode northward, ever northward. He allowed himself and his little horse only the most necessary stops for sleep and food. He rode by day and he rode by night, in the scorching sun and the pelting rain. He looked neither to the left nor the right and asked no more questions.

The farther northward he went, the darker it grew. An unchanging, leaden-gray twilight filled the days. At night the northern lights played across the sky.

One morning, when time seemed to be standing still in the murky light, he looked out from a hilltop and finally glimpsed the Swamps of Sadness. Clouds of mist drifted over them. Here and there he distinguished little clumps of trees. Their trunks divided at the bottom into four, five, or more crooked stilts, which made the trees look like great many-legged crabs standing in the black water. From the brown foliage hung aerial roots resembling motionless tentacles. It was next to impossible to make out where there was solid ground between the pools of water and where there was only a covering of water plants.

Artax whinnied with horror.

"Are we going in there, master?"

"Yes," said Atreyu."We must find Tortoise Shell Mountain. It's at the center of those swamps."

He urged Artax on and Artax obeyed. Step by step, he tested the firmness of the ground, but that made progress very slow. At length Atreyu dismounted and led Artax by the bridle. Several times the horse sank in, but managed to pull himself loose. But the farther they went into the Swamps of Sadness, the more sluggish became his movements. He let his head droop and barely dragged himself forward.

"Artax," said Atreyu."What's the matter?"

"I don't know, master. I think we should turn back. There's no sense in all this. We're chasing after something you only dreamed about. We won't find anything. Maybe it's too late even now. Maybe the Childlike Empress is already dead, and everything we're doing is useless. Let us turn back, master."

Atreyu was astonished."Artax," he said."You've never spoken like this. What's the matter? Are you sick?"

"Maybe I am," said Artax."With every step we take, the sadness grows in my heart. I've lost hope, master. And I feel so heavy, so heavy. I can't go on!"

"But we must go on!" cried Atreyu. "Come along, Artax!"

He tugged at the bridle, but Artax stood still. He had sunk in up to his belly. And he made no further effort to extricate himself.

the struggle :(

"Artax!" cried Atreyu."You mustn't let yourself go. Come. Pull yourself out or you'll sink."

"Leave me, master," said the little horse."I can't make it. Go on alone. Don't bother about me. I can't stand the sadness anymore. I want to die!"

Desperately Atreyu pulled at the bridle, but the horse sank deeper and deeper. When only his head emerged from the black water, Atreyu took it in his arms.

"I'll hold you, Artax," he whispered. "I won't let you go under."

The little horse uttered one last soft neigh.

"You can't help me, master. It's all over for me. Neither of us knew what we were getting into. Now we know why they are called the Swamps of Sadness. It's the sadness that has made me so heavy. That's why I'm sinking. There's no help."

"But I'm here, too," said Atreyu, "and I don't feel anything."

"You're wearing the Gem, master," said Artax. "It protects you."

"Then I'll hang it around your neck!" Atreyu cried."Maybe it will protect you too."

He started taking the chain off his neck.

"No," the little horse whinnied."You mustn't do that, master. The Glory was entrusted to you, you weren't given permission to pass it on as you see fit. You must carry on the Quest without me."

Atreyu pressed his face into the horse's cheek. "Artax," he whispered. "Oh, my Artax!"

"Will you grant my last wish?" the little horse asked.

Atreyu nodded in silence.

"Then I beg you to go away. I don't want you to see my end. Will you do me that favor?"

Slowly Atreyu arose. Half the horse's head was already in the black water.

"Farewell, Atreyu, my master!" he said. "And thank you."

Atreyu pressed his lips together. He couldn't speak. Once again he nodded to Artax, then he turned away.

Bastion was sobbing. He couldn't help it. His eyes filled with tears and he couldn't go on reading. He had to take out his handkerchief and blow his nose before he could go on.

Atreyu waded and waded. For how long he didn't know. The mist grew thicker and he felt as if he were blind and deaf. It seemed to him that he had been wandering around in circles for hours. He stopped worrying about where to set his foot down, and yet he never sank in above his knees. By some mysterious means, the Childlike Empress's amulet led him the right way.

Then suddenly he saw a high, steep mountain ahead of him. Pulling himself up from crag to crag, he climbed to the rounded top. At first he didn't notice what this mountain was made of. But from the top he overlooked the whole mountain, and then he saw that it consisted of great slabs of tortoise shell, with moss growing in the crevices between them.

He had found Tortoise Shell Mountain.

But the discovery gave him no pleasure. Now that his faithful little horse was gone, it left him almost indifferent. Still, he would have to find out who this Morla the Aged One was, and where she actually lived.

While he was mulling it over, he felt a slight tremor shaking the mountain. Then he heard a hideous wheezing and lip-smacking, and a voice that seemed to issue from the innermost bowels of the earth: "Sakes alive, old woman, somebody's crawling around on us."

In hurrying to the end of the ridge, where the sounds had come from, Atreyu had slipped on a bed of moss. Since there was nothing for him to hold on to, he slid faster and faster and finally fell off the mountain. Luckily he landed on a tree, which caught him in its branches.

Looking back at the mountain, he saw an enormous cave. Water was splashing and gushing inside, and something was moving. Slowly the something came out. It looked like a boulder as big as a house. When it came into full sight, Atreyu saw that it was a head attached to a long wrinkled neck. Its eyes were black and as big as ponds. The mouth was dripping with muck and water weeds. This whole Tortoise Shell Mountain - it suddenly dawned on Atreyu - was one enormous beast, a giant swamp turtle; Morla the Aged One.

The wheezing, gurgling voice spoke again: "What are you doing here, son?"

Atreyu reached for the amulet on his chest and held it in such a way that the great eyes couldn't help seeing it.

"Do you recognize this, Morla?"

She took a while to answer: "Sakes alive! AURYN. We haven't seen that in a long time, have we, old woman? The emblem of the Childlike Empress - not in a long time."

"The Childlike Empress is sick," said Atreyu."Did you know that?"

"It's all the same to us. Isn't it, old woman?" Morla replied. She seemed to be talking to herself, perhaps because she had had no one else to talk to for heaven knows how long.

"If we don't save her, she'll die," Atreyu cried out."The Nothing is spreading everywhere. I've seen it myself."

Morla stared at him out of her great empty eyes.

"We don't mind, do we, old woman?"

"But then we shall all die!" Atreyu screamed."Every last one of us!"

"Sakes alive!" said Morla. "But what do we care? Nothing matters to us anymore. It's all the same to us."

"But you'll be destroyed too, Morla!" cried Atreyu angrily."Or do you expect, because you're so old, to outlive Fantastica?"

"Sakes alive!" Morla gurgled."We're old, son, much too old. Lived long enough. Seen too much. When you know as much as we do, nothing matters. Things just repeat. Day and night, summer and winter. The world is empty and aimless. Everything circles around. Whatever starts up must pass away, whatever is born must die. It all cancels out,good and bad, beautiful and ugly. Everything's empty. Nothing is real. Nothing matters."

Atreyu didn't know what to answer. The Aged One's dark, empty, pond-sized eyes paralyzed his thoughts. After a while, he heard her speak again: "You're young, son. If you were as old as we are, you'd know there's nothing but sadness. Why shouldn't we die, you and I, the Childlike Empress, the whole lot of us? Anyway, it's all flim-flam, meaningless games. Nothing matters. Leave us in peace, son. Go away."

Atreyu tensed his will to fight off the paralysis that flowed from her eyes.

"If you know so much," he said, "you must know what the Childlike Empress's illness is and whether there's a cure for it."

"We do, we do! Don't we, old woman?" Morla wheezed."But it's all the same to us whether she's saved or not. So why should we tell you?"

"If it's really all the same to you," Atreyu argued, "you might just as well tell me."

"We could, we could! Couldn't we, old woman?" Morla grunted."But we don't feel like it."

"Then it's not all the same to you. Then you yourself don't believe what you're saying."

After a long silence he heard a deep gurgling and belching. That must have been some kind of laughter, if Morla the Aged One was still capable of laughing. In any case, she said: "You're a sly one, son. Really sly. We haven't had so much fun in a long time. Have we, old woman? Sakes alive, it's true. We might just as well tell you. Makes no difference. Should we tell him, old woman?"

A long silence followed. Atreyu waited anxiously for Morla's answer, taking care not to interrupt the slow, cheerless flow of her thoughts. At last she spoke: "Your life is short, son. Ours is long. Much too long. But we both live in time. You a short time. We a long time. The Childlike Empress has always been there. But she's not old. She has always been young. She still is. Her life isn't measured by time, but by names. She needs a new name. She keeps needing new names. Do you know her name, son?"

"No," Atreyu admitted."I never heard it."

"You couldn't have," said Morla."Not even we can remember it. Yet she has had many names. But they're all forgotten. Over and done with. But without a name she can't live. All the Childlike Empress needs is a new name, then she'll get well. But it makes no difference whether she gets well or not."

She closed her pond-sized eyes and began slowly to pull in her head.

"Wait!" cried Atreyu."Where can she get a name? Who can give her one? Where can I find the name?"

"None of us," Morla gurgled."No inhabitant of Fantastica can give her a new name. So it's hopeless. Sakes alive! It doesn't matter. Nothing matters."

"Who then?" cried Atreyu in despair."Who can give her the name that will save her and save us all?"

"Don't make so much noise!" said Morla. "Leave us in peace and go away. Even we don't know who can give her a name."

"If you don't know," Atreyu screamed even louder, "who does?"

She opened her eyes a last time.

"If you weren't wearing the Gem," she wheezed, "we'd eat you up, just to have peace and quiet. Sakes alive!"

"Who?" Atreyu insisted."Tell me who knows, and I'll leave you in peace forever."

"It doesn't matter," she replied. "But maybe Uyulala in the Southern Oracle knows. She may know. It's all the same to us."

"How can I get there?"

"You can't get there at all, son. Not in ten thousand days' journey. Your life is too short. You'd die first. It's too far. In the south. Much too far. So it's all hopeless. We told you so in the first place, didn't we, old woman? Sakes alive, son. Give it up. Just leave us in peace."

With that she closed her empty-gazing eyes and pulled her head back into the cave for good. Atreyu knew he would learn no more from her.

At that same time the shadowy being which had condensed out of the darkness of the heath picked up Atreyu's trail and headed for the Swamps of Sadness. Nothing and no one in all Fantastica would deflect it from that trail.

Bastian had propped his head on his hand and was looking thoughtfully into space.

"Strange," he said aloud, "that no one in all Fantastica can give the Childlike Empress a new name." If it had been just a matter of giving her a name, Bastian could easily have helped her. He was tops at that. But unfortunately he was not in Fantastica, where his talents were needed and would even have won him friends and admirers. On the other hand, he was glad not to be there. Not for anything in the world would he have ventured into such a place as the Swamps of Sadness. And then this spooky creature of darkness that was chasing Atreyu without his knowing it. Bastian would have liked to warn him, but that was impossible. All he could do was hope, and go on reading.

Chapter IV - Ygramul the Many

Dire hunger and thirst pursued Atreyu. It was two days since he had left the Swamps of Sadness, and since then he had been wandering through an empty rocky wilderness. What little provisions he had taken with him had sunk beneath the black waters with Artax. In vain, Atreyu dug his fingers into the clefts between stones in the hope of finding some little root, but nothing grew there, not even moss or lichen.

At first he was glad to feel solid ground beneath his feet, but little by little it came to him that he was worse off than ever. He was lost. He didn't even know what direction he was going in, for the dusky grayness was the same all around him. A cold wind blew over the needle like rocks that rose up on all sides, blew and blew.

Atreyu looking at the land from a peak, bits of it full of life, some clouds, lots of nothing

Uphill and downhill he plodded, but all he saw was distant mountains with still more distant ranges behind them, and so on to the horizon on all sides. And nothing living, not a beetle, not an ant, not even the vultures which ordinarily follow the weary traveler until he falls by the wayside.

Doubt was no longer possible. This was the Land of the Dead Mountains. Few had seen them, and fewer still escaped from them alive. But they figured in the legends of Atreyu's people. He remembered an old song:

Better the huntsman

Should perish in the swamps,

For in the Dead Mountains

There is a deep, deep chasm,

Where dwelleth Ygramul the Many,

The horror of horrors.

Even if Atreyu had wanted to turn back and had known what direction to take, it would not have been possible. He had gone too far and could only keep on going. If only he himself had been involved, he might have sat down in a cave and quietly waited for death, as the Greenskin hunters did. But he was engaged in the Great Quest: the life of the Childlike Empress and of all Fantastica was at stake. He had no right to give up.

And so he kept at it. Up hill and down. From time to time he realized that he had long been walking as though in his sleep, that his mind had been in other realms, from which they had returned none too willingly.

Bastion gave a start. The clock in the belfry struck one. School was over for the day.

He heard the shouts and screams of the children running into the corridors from the classrooms and the clatter of many feet on the stairs. For a while there were isolated shouts from the street. And then the schoolhouse was engulfed in silence.

The silence descended on Bastian like a great heavy blanket and threatened to smother him. From then on he would be all alone in the big schoolhouse - all that day, all that night, there was no knowing how long. This adventure of his was getting serious.

The other children were going home for lunch. Bastian was hungry too, and he was cold in spite of the army blankets he was wrapped in. Suddenly he lost heart, his whole plan seemed crazy, senseless. He wanted to go home, that very minute. He could just be in time. His father wouldn't have noticed anything yet. Bastian wouldn't even have to tell him he had played hooky. Of course, it would come out sooner or later, but there was time to worry about that. But the stolen book? Yes, he'd have to own up to that too. In the end, his father would resign himself as he did to all the disappointments Bastian had given him. Anyway, there was nothing to be afraid of. Most likely his father wouldn't say anything, but just go and see Mr. Coreander and straighten things out.

Bastian was about to put the copper-colored book into his satchel. But then he stopped.

"No," he said aloud in the stillness of the attic. "Atreyu wouldn't give up just because things were getting a little rough. What I've started I must finish. I've gone too far to turn back. Regardless of what may happen, I have to go forward."

He felt very lonely, yet there was a kind of pride in his loneliness. He was proud of standing firm in the face of temptation.

He was a little like Atreyu after all.

A time came when Atreyu really could not go forward. Before him lay the Deep Chasm.

The grandiose horror of the sight cannot be described in words. A yawning cleft, perhaps half a mile wide, twined its way through the Land of the Dead Mountains. How deep it might be there was no way of knowing.

Atreyu lay on a spur at the edge of the chasm and stared down into darkness which seemed to extend to the innermost heart of the earth. He picked up a stone the size of a tennis ball and hurled it as far as he could. The stone fell and fell, until it was swallowed up in the darkness. Though Atreyu listened a long while, he heard no sound of impact.

There was only one thing Atreyu could do, and he did it. He skirted the Deep Chasm. Every second he expected to meet the "horrors of horrors", known to him from the old song. He had no idea what sort of creature this might be. All he knew was that its name was Ygramul.

The Deep Chasm twisted and turned through the mountain waste, and of course there was no path at its edge. Here too there were abrupt rises and falls, and sometimes the ground swayed alarmingly under Atreyu's feet. Sometimes his path was barred by gigantic rock formations and he would have to feel his way, painfully, step by step, around them. Or there would be slopes covered with smooth stones that would start rolling toward the Chasm as soon as he set foot on them. More than once he was within a hairbreadth of the edge.

If he had known that a pursuer was close behind him and coming closer by the hour, he might have hurried and taken dangerous risks. It was that creature of darkness which had been after him since the start of his journey. Since then its body had taken on recognizable outlines. It was a pitch-black wolf, the size of an ox. Nose to the ground, it trotted along, following Atreyu's trail through the stony desert of the Dead Mountains. Its tongue hung far out of its mouth and its terrifying fangs were bared. The freshness of the scent told the wolf that its prey was only a few miles ahead.

But suspecting nothing of his pursuer, Atreyu picked his way slowly and cautiously.

As he was groping through the darkness of a tunnel under a mountain, he suddenly heard a noise that he couldn't identify because it bore no resemblance to any sound he had ever heard. It was a kind of jangling roar. At the same time Atreyu felt that the whole mountain about him was trembling,and he heard blocks of stone crashing down its outer walls. For a time he waited to see whether the earthquake, or whatever it might be, would abate. Then, since it did not, he crawled to the end of the tunnel and cautiously stuck his head out.

And then he saw: An enormous spider web was stretched from edge to edge of the Deep Chasm. And in the sticky threads of the web, which were as thick as ropes, a great white luckdragon was struggling, becoming more and more entangled as he thrashed about with his tail and claws.

Luckdragons are among the strangest animals in Fantastica. They bear no resemblance to ordinary dragons, which look like loathsome snakes and live in deep caves, diffusing a noxious stench and guarding some real or imaginary treasure. Such spawn of chaos are usually wicked or ill-tempered, they have batlike wings with which they can rise clumsily and noisily into the air, and they spew fire and smoke. Luckdragons are creatures of air, warmth, and pure joy. Despite their great size, they are as light as a summer cloud, and consequently need no wings for flying. They swim in the air of heaven as fish swim in water. Seen from the earth, they look like slow lightning flashes. The most amazing thing about them is their song. Their voice sounds like the golden note of a large bell, and when they speak softly the bell seems to be ringing in the distance. Anyone who has heard this sound will remember it as long as he lives and tell his grandchildren about it.

But the luckdragon Atreyu saw could hardly have been in a mood for singing. His long, graceful body with its pearly, pink-and-white scales hung tangled and twisted in the great spider web. His bristling fangs, his thick, luxuriant mane, and the fringes on his tail and limbs were all caught in the sticky ropes. He could hardly move. The eyeballs in his lionlike head glistened ruby-red.

The splendid beast bled from many wounds, for there was something else, something very big, that descended like a dark cloud on the dragon's white body. It rose and fell, rose and fell, all the while changing its shape. Sometimes it resembled a gigantic long-legged spider with many fiery eyes and a fat body encased in shaggy black hair; then it became a great hand with long claws that tried to crush the luckdragon, and in the next moment it changed to a giant scorpion, piercing its unfortunate victim with its venomous sting.

The battle between the two giants was fearsome. The luckdragon was still defending himself, spewing blue fire that singed the cloud-monster's bristles. Smoke came whirling through the crevices in the rock, so foul-smelling that Atreyu could hardly breathe. Once the luckdragon managed to bite off one of the monster's long legs. But instead of falling into the chasm, the severed leg hovered for a time in mid-air, then returned to its old place in the black cloud-body. And several times the dragon seemed to seize one of the monster's limbs between its teeth, but bit into the void.

Only then did Atreyu notice that the monster was not a single, solid body, but was made up of innumerable small steel-blue insects which buzzed like angry hornets. It was their compact swarm that kept taking different shapes.

This was Ygramul, and now Atreyu knew why she was called "the Many". He sprang from his hiding place, reached for the Gem, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Stop! In the name of the Childlike Empress, stop!"

But the hissing and roaring of the combatants drowned out his voice. He himself could barely hear it.

Without stopping to think, he set foot on the sticky ropes of the web, which swayed beneath him as he ran. He lost his balance, fell, clung by his hands to keep from falling into the dark chasm, pulled himself up again, caught himself in the ropes, fought free and hurried on.

At last Ygramul sensed that something was coming toward her. With the speed of lightning, she turned about, confronting Atreyu with an enormous steel-blue face. Her single eye had a vertical pupil, which stared at Atreyu with inconceivable malignancy.

A cry of fear escaped Bastian.

A cry of terror passed through the ravine and echoed from side to side. Ygramul turned her eye to left and right, to see if someone else had arrived, for that sound could not have been made by the boy who stood there as though paralyzed with horror.

Could she have heard my cry? Bastion wondered in alarm. But that's not possible.

And then Atreyu heard Ygramul's voice. It was very high and slightly hoarse, not at all the right kind of voice for that enormous face. Her lips did not move as she spoke. It was the buzzing of a great swarm of hornets that shaped itself into words.

"A Twolegs," Atreyu heard."Years upon years of hunger, and now two tasty morsels at once! A lucky day for Ygramul!"y

Atreyu needed all his strength to keep his composure. He held the Gem up to the monster's one eye and asked: "Do you know this emblem?"

"Come closer, Twolegs!" buzzed the many voices."Ygramul doesn't see well."

Atreyu took one step closer to the face. The mouth opened, showing innumerable glittering feelers, hooks, and claws in place of a tongue.

"Still closer," the swarm buzzed.

He took one more step, which brought him near enough to distinguish the innumerable steel-blue insects which whirled around in seeming confusion. Yet the face as a whole remained motionless.

"I am Atreyu," he said."I have come on a mission from the Childlike Empress."

"Most inopportune!" said the angry buzzing after a time."What do you want of Ygramul? As you can see, she is very busy."

"I want this luckdragon," said Atreyu. "Let me have him."

"What do you want him for, Atreyu Twolegs?"

"I lost my horse in the Swamps of Sadness. I must go to the Southern Oracle, because only Uyulala can tell me who can give the Childlike Empress a new name. If she doesn't get one, she will die and all Fantastica with her - you too, Ygramul."

"Ah!" the face drawled."Is that the reason for all the places where there is nothing?"

"Yes," said Atreyu. "So you too know of them. But the Southern Oracle is too long a journey for a lifetime. That's why I'm asking you for this luckdragon. If he carries me through the air, I may get there before it's too late."

Out of the whirling swarm that made up the face came a sound suggesting the giggling of many voices.

"You're all wrong, Atreyu Twolegs. We know nothing of the Southern Oracle and nothing of Uyulala, but we do know that this dragon cannot carry you. And even if he were in the best of health, the trip would take so long that the Childlike Empress would die of her illness in the meantime. You must measure your Quest, Atreyu, in terms not of your own life but of hers."

The gaze of the eye with the vertical pupil was almost unbearable.

"That's true," he said in a small voice.

"Besides," the motionless face went on, "the luckdragon has Ygramul's venom in his body. He has less than an hour to live."

"Then there's no hope," Atreyu murmured."Not for him, not for me, and not for you either, Ygramul."

"Oh well," the voice buzzed."Ygramul would at least have had one good meal. But who says it's Ygramul's last meal? She knows a way of getting you to the Southern Oracle in a twinkling. But the question is: Will you like it?"

"What is that way?"

"That is Ygramul's secret. The creatures of darkness have their secrets too, Atreyu Twolegs. Ygramul has never revealed hers. And you too must swear you'll never tell a soul. For it would be greatly to Ygramul's disadvantage if it were known, yes, greatly to her disadvantage."

"I swear! Speak!"

The great steel-blue face leaned forward just a little and buzzed almost inaudibly."You must let Ygramul bite you."

Atreyu shrank back in horror.

"Ygramul's venom," the voice went on, "kills within an hour. But to one who has it inside him it gives the power to wish himself in any part of Fantastica he chooses. Imagine if that were known! All Ygramul's victims would escape her."

"An hour?" cried Atreyu."What can I do in an hour?"

"Well," buzzed the swarm, "at least it's more than all the hours remaining to you here."

Atreyu struggled with himself.

"Will you set the luckdragon free if I ask it in the name of the Childlike Empress?" he finally asked.

"No!" said the face."You have no right to ask that of Ygramul even if you are wearing AURYN, the Gem. The Childlike Empress takes us all as we are. That's why Ygramul respects her emblem."

Atreyu was still standing with bowed head. Ygramul had spoken the truth. He couldn't save the white luckdragon. His own wishes didn't count.

He looked up and said: "Do what you suggested."

Instantly the steel-blue cloud descended on him and enveloped him on all sides. He felt a numbing pain in the left shoulder. His last thought was: "To the Southern Oracle!"

Then the world went black before his eyes.

When the wolf reached the spot a short time later, he saw the giant spider web - but there was no one in sight. There the trail he had been following broke off, and try as he might, he could not find it again.

Bastian stopped reading. He felt miserable, like the venom was coursing through him.

"Thank God I'm not in Fantastica," he muttered."Luckily, such monsters don't exist in reality. Anyway, it's only a story."

But was it only a story? How did it happen that Ygramul, and probably Atreyu as well, had heard Bastian's cry of terror?

Little by little, this book was beginning to give him a spooky feeling.

The Neverending Story Explanation

DO NOT WORRY! There is a happy ending for this tale.

Michael Ende, the author, penned this wonderful book as a call for hope and belief in the imagination. Born in 1929 Germany, Ende was the son of a physiotherapist and a surrealist artist. His mother helped with growth and healing in her job - something the Nazis disliked, as they preferred constant perfection and uniformity. And his father proposed questions and alternative points of view via his art, which the Nazis also hated - fascism being an easier sell when people did not know they had other options or even the ability to think outside of state-sanctioned mindsets. And being a child during a war, Ende saw a lot of madness, hopelessness and death.

Which is why I think his book is all about clutching onto hope, trying to grow as a person despite the pressures and mold of society and searching for your own truth.

As you may have suspected, I did not read the book first. I watched the movie on VHS - if you’ve ever seen a DVD, then a VHS was like that, but a rectangular prism. It only covers the first half of the book, but it was definitely the more adaptable half. There were two sequel movies that DID kind of cover the last half, but they were terrible.

I chose these chapters because I feel like they would hook in someone who was unfamiliar with the story - I had the advantage of watching the movie first, after all.

Onto the art!

I was infatuated with the movie, and at the time I drew the title picture, I was tired of what I had been drawing. I put a lot of research into my pictures - its something I’m proud of - but it gets a little tiring. So I drew something that I know and love - the original movie poster! Four years later, when I finally finished drawing the other illustrations (I have a general schedule for what I draw, this was an isolated event), I had to edit it a bit. I originally did my best approximation of the Atreyu actor from the original movie (he changed in each movie), but I just changed it so he’s accurate to my new illustrations. You can see the original in the sketches link at the end of this post. Also I just realized the movie poster gives Falkor no back legs but the movie totally does. And I just copied it lol.

The second picture took me over a year. It wasn’t THAT hard, but the perspective took some working, and I started drawing it before I researched the inspiration for MY Atreyu’s appearance - the Comanche people of the American Plains (the movie actor is a white boy with tanned skin, and I wanted to be more accurate than that.)

The Comanche people are famous bison hunters who adapted to horses quickly, and that’s pretty much the only information we get about Atreyu’s tribe - they’re green, they hunt purple bison, and they have horses. As a fantasy stand-in for an Indigenous tribe, it didn’t feel right to make things up that seemed Native American; that would feel disrespectful. So, I based Atreyu on a Comanche man, and the bridle on Artax on a Comanche bridle. Comanche men traditionally had fur and skin wraps around two long braids, and a few small ones from the part of their hair.

I MUST stress, however, that they did not ordinarily keep feathers in their hair. While I cannot make sweeping generalizations about all Indigenous people of Turtle Island (what we call North America), the vast majority have made it clear that wearing feathers in hair was NOT an everyday thing. Feathers were largely worn for celebratory reasons, like how some people have their ‘Sunday best’. While many photos and drawings do depict them wearing feathers, that is because they often dressed up in their best outfits for the artists and photographers. Its inaccurate to show them wearing feathers all the time.

The men also only wore tops and leggings (different from modern leggings - they were basically tubes that went around the lower leg, and then only covered the outside of the thigh, attaching to a hoop around the waist and to boots below) when it was cold. Otherwise, they just wore breechcloths - rectangular cloths that dip under the torso, hang over the hoop, and cover the front and back of one's thighs. I’ve never tried it, but I imagine its a freeing experience!

Third picture: Very sad, very iconic tableau of the film. I just had to draw it. If it makes you feel any better, Artax does come back in way later in the film and book. ♡

In drawing the fourth picture, I felt especially inspired. Many Indigenous people cut their hair when they’ve lost a loved one, so I felt the craggy mountains (with the bits of Nothing that I added as artistic license) serving as a backdrop to him tossing the hair away just would look cool. I’m not sure the crayon I used to color in the Nothing worked, but it’s what I used!

The fifth picture took me a while. I wanted to draw the wolf, Gmork, but I kept accidentally drawing him too cute. Then it came to me - the story said that he was forming out of darkness, so I should draw him becoming more wolf-like, but still distinctly Not. I first drew him normally - pencil then black ink on a white page. Then I edited the picture to create a more ghostly appearance. Then I threw it in an image editor and reversed the colors - turned them negative. And that’s how I drew the wolf in the darkness. I kept the penciled tree I originally drew in the background because I felt it looked cool in conjunction with the wispy lines of the wolf.

Sixth picture, I just tried to keep with Ygramul’s description, and the movie appearance of the luckdragon, Falkor. I gave Ygramul a crab mouth because I hate those and think they look disgusting, and figured it would fit with the monster’s vibes.

The seventh picture, I just wanted to draw Atreyu looking small and brave against a monster. I based Ygramul’s look in this picture on a Taxxon, an alien species from a stupendous book series called Animorphs. They can never stop eating, to the point of self-cannibalism if left long enough.

Last picture, I just wanted to capture Bastian at least once, the wolf one more time, and the ‘actual’ book. It’s supposed to look like Bastian has turned his head to read the opposite page, but I think that the angle isn’t quite right. Oh well! My handwriting is naturally bad, so trust me when I say that was some of my best efforts!

Atreyu is supposed to be a reflection of Bastian in a way, and vice versa, so I headcanon that Bastian’s interest in storytelling, reading and horses may come from his mother’s side. I believe the ‘outer’ story is set in Germany, but in my head, I cooked up a little side story. Bastian’s dad worked with the Americans stationed in West Germany. A daughter of a Comanche soldier fell in love with him, and they married. For better or for worse, the pair stayed together, but I bet she longed for America (I know I always miss home within a week of vacation, lol) and perhaps some of that wistfulness, loneliness and discontent transferred to her son, especially once she passed away.

Below is the ‘original’ Atreyu in the title picture, the progression of Gmork, and a link to a website with the whole book within. It will offer links for downloading, but don’t bother - you can read it in entirety on the page.

Hope you’ll read more!

https://epdf.tips/the-neverending-story2819f9f1.html

SKETCHES

[littlefeather-wolf]

🏹𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐄🏹 (𝟏𝟖𝟑𝟏-𝟏𝟗𝟏𝟓)

Two Strike, or Numpkahapa, was a Brulé Lakota chief born in the White River Valley in 1831 in the northeastern part of present-day Nebraska. He acquired the Lakota name of "Nomkahpa", meaning "Knocks out two" in a battle with the Utes, in which he knocked two Utes off their horses with a single blow from his war club. Two Strike fought in various battles against the United States Army during the Bozeman Trail Wars, allied with Chief Crow Dog and Chief Crazy Horse in the Powder River Country of Wyoming ... Two Strike and his band were present alongside bands of Southern Cheyennes at the Battle of Summit Springs, Colorado on July 11, 1869, when the 5th Cavalry and 50 Pawnee scouts led a surprise attack on their camp. Buffalo Bill Cody was present at the battle as a scout leader. Chief Tall Bull of the Southern Cheyennes along with 51 members of the Lakota-Cheyenne Combined Encampment were killed and 17 women and children were taken prisoner, the rest of the Lakota and Cheyenne managed to escape. The soldiers then burned all the tipis and their contents ... Chief Two Strike was one of the main leaders of the combined Oglala and Burnt forces who, along with more than 1,000 brave men, attacked a group of 350 Pawnees who had established their reserve in Nebraska to hunt buffalo. Over 70 Pawnees were killed in the battle that took place along a canyon now located in Hitchcock County, Nebraska. The canyon has since been renamed Massacre Canyon.

Two Strike died in 1915 on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota

[thecryptidbard]

Really need a ghosts B or C plot where Trevor is finally allowed to use the laptop again and he starts playing The Oregon Trail (because it’s a simple game so he can control the keys fairly easily, plus it was around during his childhood so it’s nostalgic). He of course names everyone in the party after the different ghosts and the livings. He quickly discovers just how foolish this was.

The character he names Isaac dies of dysentery almost immediately, which everyone thinks is hilarious, but then Isaac forces him to remake the character and try again, and every. Single. Time. He dies of dysentery. And it makes Isaac FURIOUS each time, like someone-just-mentioned-Hamilton levels of anger. To the point where even Trevor is like ‘hey bro, can we be done now, this is a lot of work and it’s not even funny anymore it’s just sad’.

Thor still thinks it’s pretty funny, but then he sees Trevor kill a squirrel while hunting (in Trevor’s defense, he was aiming for a buffalo, but his ghost power makes computer games far from an exact science) and has nightmares about Oskar again for a week, keeping everyone up (especially Trevor, since they share a room), and all the others of course blame him for the lack of sleep.

Now Hetty’s suddenly mad at him too because she finds out he made himself the party leader, and she thinks that as Lady of the House that position should rightfully be hers. Just when she finally forgives him, her character drowns at a river crossing, and now she won’t even speak to him because ‘you should have saved me! Did you even try? How DARE you let me just die!’ And she won’t listen when he tries to explain that’s not how the game works.

Meanwhile, Pete won’t stop pointing out all the differences between the version Trevor found online and the original one he remembers from back when he was alive, and Flower, mistaking game-Sam’s death for real Sam’s death, spends several days thinking Sam has now joined them as a ghost. She keeps trying to comfort Sam and reassure her that even though he seems totally unconcerned, Jay definitely misses her.

After less than a week, Trevor’s computer privileges are once again revoked, almost everyone is mad at him, and Sam has gotten Flowered a half dozen times because Flower still thinks she’s a ghost and keeps hugging her.

[daysinayear2015]

Day 307: November 2, 2024

Buffalo River Trail. Whew, this was a hard one! Harrison, AR.

[fortheloveofwanderlustblog]

Hike to Fern Falls, Arkansas

[kickingitwithkirk]

When the past won't let go

Summary: Sometimes there’s more to the story

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader

Word Count: 2511

Warnings: cursing, past memories, angst, personal conflict, mentions of death, revealing secrets

Square Filled: Forbidden Relationship @walker-bingo

A/N: This segment is told from Walker's POV

A/N II: part six of Duke x Reader/Cordell x Reader series of drabbles and stories for this bingo.

*Set between 2.05 Partners and Third Wheels & 2.06 Douglass Fir

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

Walker

“Agent Graves knew Stan Morrison killed your wife...”

Those eight words turned my heart inside out again.

It was a good thing Micki showed up at that moment, she took one look and ordered me to take a walk before I lost my shit and hospital security got called. 

I ended up in one of the city's parks heading down a hiking trail that thankfully wasn’t busy this time of day came to an outcropping near the river, sat down, and took off my hat, letting it dangle between my legs, going back over that year.

The pain was followed by excessive drinking and extended workload, using both to numb me, barely going through the motions of life without actually being in it till the accident at home and decided it was best for all to leave, going undercover on Operation: Watch The Throne. 

After months of trying to make inroads, those two women came; Twyla Jean, who got me into the Kings through a fake relationship, and Y/N, the mystery piece who made me put in the work to crack open the door she used to keep everyone at bay.  

The one my memories, or is it my heart, refuses to release me from. 

Later Stan’s betrayal was exposed after years of friendship..hell, the man was family, sent us all into a tailspin cumulated with us standing upon that spot forced him to confess after Emily stumbled upon a drug haul he pulled the trigger on the kill shot to save his own skin from Northside Nation. 

All this time, now I’m wondering how many other things I’ve missed.

I peered through the view window to see Micki texting on her phone spotting me taps a finger to her lips, and came out quietly shutting the door.

“You cooled off?”

“Yeah, hey, thank you for giving me some time to sort stuff out.”

“Is it sorted?”

“For now. So did Y/N write anything else about Mannon?”

“She wrote down a few places he might be hiding but so far, no sign he’s been to any of them. The doctor came by and said she’ll be out tomorrow. I let Cap know and he’s arranging a safe house.”

“Okay, good.”

“So, you wanna tell me about it?”

“No.”

Micki’s eyebrow arched, “since when?”

I spy James coming down the hall, “how about not right now.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Hold him to what?” James asked, “Cap, we all set?” Micki deflected.

“Everything’s set but I’d rather finish this discussion a little more privately,” he opens the door for her to enter first, “I called in a couple of favors and got the safe house in Buffalo.”

“That’s not in our jurisdiction,” Micki says and James lowers his voice, “I did some digging. It’s not been substantiated but it’s looking like Mannon may not only have informants in Austin but other law enforcement agencies, so we need to fly under the radar on this.”

“You’re thinking Graves is on the leaks?” 

“I could’ve told you that,” a scratchy voice answered.

“You’re supposed to be writing, not talking.” I sternly say and you give me that particular look hear James stifle a laugh before clapping my shoulder, “good luck with that.”

Next morning 

The nurse had finished going over discharge instructions when James dropped by with the safehouse details and informed us that the landlord had taken what Y/N had of value as payment for damages and tossed everything else. 

“My bag, y’all happen to confiscate it?” James shook his head, “I’m sorry, we didn’t find it.”

“What happened to the clothes I had on?”

“They had to cut your uniform off and you were barefoot.”

“Leave it to that sonuvabitch to take my last sixty-five bucks.” Y/N croaked out.

“I’ve already signed off on a purchase voucher for what you’ll need,” James said, “I’ll reach out to some contacts who can help with getting you back on your feet once we have Mannon in custody.”

Tugging at the robe-covered hospital gown, “wonder if they’ll let me keep this lovely ensemble, maybe get some of those awesome slippers to match since I don’t have a-pot to piss in.”

She broke off coughing and I grabbed the water cup, “that’s what you get for talking too much,” sticking the straw between her lips. “You can borrow my stuff till we get you some.”

“I’m no charity case, Ranger Walker,”  Y/N mumbled around the straw.

“Never thought you were.” 

Buffalo, TX

“Well, this is quaint.” 

Micki’s sarcasm wasn’t far off. 

The safe house turned out to be an older one-bedroom, one-bath ranch in the middle of nowhere with a pull-out and doorways I have to duck through.

“At least we got a clear view of the perimeter.”

“For once I’m happy it’s winter, makes it harder for anyone to hide, even in camo,” Micki commented. “We’ll still need to periodically check around that corpse of trees, looked pretty thick when we pulled in.”

“Let’s hope Mannon hasn’t caught on to our ruse and is following the decoy to Fredericksburg.” 

Micki opened the fridge, “whoever set this up didn’t leave much, I better do a supply run.”

“Why you?”

“Cause an almost 6’5” Sasquatch in Ranger clothes isn’t gonna stand out?”

“Good point. Head out-of-town so locals stay in the dark.”

“I’ll change and go to Palestine or Mexia,”  Micki grabs her bag and goes into the bedroom leaving the door cracked, “gotta feeling we'll be stuck here for a while, so I’ll double up on the groceries, especially with how much you pack away.” 

“Funny, where’s Y/N?”

Micki walked out slipping on her jacket and crossing her arms, “locked herself in the bath muttering something about preferring the hoosgow then stuck in an ace in the hole with a tenderfoot and blatherskite. She’s got quite the mouth on her.”

“Y/N tends to be colorful when stressed.”

 “What’s she like normally?”

“Sarcasm on a shingle.” Y/N sarcastically quips.

My breath hitched seeing you in my flannel and faded jeans, the type so worn in they’re almost too comfortable to take off, accentuating your curves that’ve haunted my dreams spot toes peeking out under the rolled cuffs.

“What’re you grinning at?”

“You ahh, you still wear that purple polish.”

“Right. I’m gonna get going,” I felt Micki’s scrutiny, mouthing behave, making mine downturn in response.

“I see Ramirez doesn’t tolerate any of your bullshine either.” 

Not giving me a chance to respond, you walk off to the cupboard finding the extra set of bedding and pillows come back, cocking your head for me to move.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making up the pullout.”

“Okay, but you’re not sleeping out here.”

“Why?”

“What’d ya mean why? You’re doubling up with Micki..”

“You two can double up in this dice house, I’m parking it out here!”

“The hell you are! Look, your ex has proven he can slip in and out of places undetected so until he’s in custody, we’re going to need to keep you within eyesight 24/7.”

“Ranger Walker, does that mean you’re personally gonna join me in the bath and scrub my back?”

“I..you..you know that’s not what I meant!”

“I’m not going to argue this one,” your voice is wearing out from overuse, “Y/N you probably aren't gonna believe me but I understand what a traumatic..”

“How am I supposed to believe anything coming from that mouth of yours?” Shit, the sheer vitriol in your voice.

 “I know this is my only chance at earning any trust from you again, and I‘m gonna be one hundred percent open and honest.” Sitting down I looked up at her with no filters, “remember me telling you about my wife?”

“You said she died in an accident.”

“Her name was Emily. The last time I saw her, she and a friend headed for the border, restocking supply stations. She called..she was so scared then I heard gunshots..I tried calling her back but I knew.”  

Fuck, feel like I’m gonna choke on my tongue.

“After the funeral, I buried myself in the job and the bottle. Finally, my family, James, and Stan Morrison did an intervention. I couldn’t be there anymore so I told them I was taking the undercover job outta town..and lost myself in those months. ”

I wasn’t expecting you to sit down next to me, let alone place your hand on my leg, and took the risk of placing my hand on top of yours.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have no right but I am asking you to give me, Cordell Walker, a chance to prove you can trust me.”

Days later

“How much more time does she need?” Micki snapped.

Y/N’s indecisiveness was wearing on all our nerves, seriously thinking of hitting that bottle I’d snuck in. 

Of course, it didn’t help this morning Micki decided to try talking, okay, she tried some psychoanalysis learned from Adrianna, leading to one helluva blowout that had me physically hauling Y/N outside like a sack of taters. 

Glancing away from you angrily pacing outside to an equally angry Micki, “as long as she needs. Look, we’re all tired and cranky..”

 “You think?” 

“We can’t push..”

“.. then implement those charms of yours Beau so we can..”

“Wrap this up and move on to the next case?” 

We both startled not hearing you come in, “gee, wish it was that easy for me, I’d love to be able to move on from this.”

“You’ve had ample opportunity to tell anyone in law enforcement..”

“If I had, I'd been dead a long time ago.”

“What?” 

“There’s a shitload more to this than you’ve been told.” 

“Walker, grab that bottle I know you’ve got, and let’s all get real comfortable,” Micki retrieved three cups and sat down.

“I don’t wanna discuss my personal goings-on so let’s start with what brought him here.” Y/N threw back her drink, “ya know why I ditched my real name?” 

“Your file wasn’t clear.”

“Because I wouldn’t play their reindeer games.” Not entirely sure where she was going and Micki appeared as puzzled as me. “Wait, you two really don’t know who my family are?”

“No.”

“Daddy got his start by helping certain elected individuals with their less-than-legal activities. In appreciation, they made him Senator Y/D/L/N.”

“One of the Senators who confirms PSC appointments,” Micki states, and I add, “PSC oversees DPS,” some more pieces click, “he found out about Stan’s illegal activities.”

Y/N tapped the side of her nose.

 “The mysterious appearance of pension funds also blipped on the Secret Services financial investigations radar but they didn’t have enough tangible evidence against Morrison.  It was sheer coincidence Eric was sent at the same time the Kings started robbing banks.” 

“The Kings started a few months before Walker went undercover.”

“No, they’d started small a few years ago, Clint wanted it down to a T before moving on to bigger game, that was Eric’s in. He came up with partnering with Northside; in exchange for laundering the money, they’d make a delivery or pickup while on the circuit, that’s how Clint, Crystal, and Jaxon got misdemeanor drug charges. When Twerp came in, Clint persuaded her into giving Northside banking information on the businesses they were interested in, like The Side Step and Carlos Mendoza's family businesses.”  

“Wow, gotta give it to Graves,” Micki interjects, “she’s better at burying shit than I’d given her credit for.” 

Y/N gave me a curious look, “you didn’t know any of this?”

“No, but it makes sense, what Stan said, this can’t go on. I thought it was my screwing up at home but I was already getting too close before going under, why he hoped that the Rodeo Kings would end me.”

“Just like Clint, might’ve called you family but didn’t stop him from turning if he thought you were a threat.”

Micki pointedly glares at Y/N, “and you blithely went along with them, not caring who got hurt..” 

Y/N shot outta her seat and disappeared outside.

Shit! 

I sat down next to Y/N and leaned back against the same corps trees that half circled a small pond hand her one of the mugs I’d brought. 

“Been out here awhile, thought you might need a warm-up.” She took a sip and smiled, “you’ve never forgotten what I like since that first time you offered me coffee.”

“My daddy told me before I got married, ‘son, the key to a happy marriage is never forget what a woman likes to drink’.”

Y/N sighed, “Clint always was crazier than a Kiowa Paint Mare, somewhere along the way, he got twisted. I never believed he’d take things that far, or hurt your family as he did.”

 “How’d you..”

“Trevor. He told me everything but your real name.”

“Clint blamed me for Crystal, for what happened that day, wanted me to understand what it was to suffer. If Trevor hadn’t interfered, I’da killed him with my bare hands.” 

“Then you’d have become him.”

“Hmph, I’ve been on the edge of that precipice more than once.” “But you didn’t jump,” she said, “your Jimmy Cricket didn’t let you.”

“Let your conscience be your guide Jimmy Cricket?”

“No, don’t know what else to call it. That something that stops you from stepping off the ledge of not coming back,” she shrugged.

“For me, it’s my family. No matter how hard it gets, they never gave up on me.”

Y/N starts playing with the chain for my dog tags, making the rational part of my brain holler at me this is wrong, she’s under my protection and off limits.

Irrational desire flames in me as her feathery touch makes my skin tingles, accept the invitation of tasting her sweet lips.

A hand covering my mouth instinctively made me grab their arm.

“Walker, it’s me,” Y/N whispered before removing her hand, “stay quiet, there are people moving around outside.”

“How many?”

“Not sure but I saw three night-sights.”

Shit, not good hear Micki stirring, “hey, we’ve got company.”

***

“Slow down but don’t stop,” I reach for my duffel from the floorboard.

“Walker, whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Stick to the plan..”

“..you bailing out of a moving vehicle wasn’t..”

“He’s right,” Y/N grabs hers, “sticking together gonna get you killed. I’ll split, you two can say it was during the firefight and..”

“..I’m coming with you..”

 “..the hell you are..”

“..you are in my custody and my responsibility. Micki, got any extra cash on you?” 

I rifled through the wallet she tossed me, “get Liam to discretely look into Graves’s recent activities, got a feeling Mannon’s sudden appearance wasn’t random, and tell James I’ll be in contact in a few days.”

“Walker..”

“I know. Be careful Flor, we don’t know who to trust inside the circle anymore.” 

Glancing in the rearview mirror, “on three.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancyml @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[einsteinsugly]

The T7S gang, on the Oregon Trail.

Eric: Teacher. Has no money, and seemingly has limited skills. But he's the leader, and he is somehow good at shooting buffaloes. Before he left, Red repeatedly told him how to fix the wagon wheel. He somehow remembers, but Donna and Hyde have to do the heavy lifting. Survivor.

Donna: Occasional journalist (blame the misogyny). She and Hyde carry the two buffaloes Eric shot back to camp (Hyde kills one). Makes sure the gang heads out on the trail on time, and makes sure they have enough supplies. She and Eric insist on taking the Bartow Trail, and both try to insist on paying for the ferry at the Kansas River rather than caulking the wagon. Hyde says they're lame. Survivor.

Hyde: Carpenter. Calls himself a "prospector." He and Donna do the heavy lifting, and is always an advocate of caulking the wagon on the river (he's mechanically adept, and cheap). Eric and Jackie reluctantly "supervise." Survivor.

Jackie: Banker's daughter, with lots of money and has seemingly limited skills. But she's the one who actually fixed the wagon wheel and is a great haggler. Along with Donna and Eric, she always wants to pay for the ferry, if possible. Survivor.

Kelso: Blacksmith (he loves playing with fire). Broke the wagon, by rocking it back and forth. Hyde wants to abandon him on the side of the trail with all of the makeshift tombstones. Almost drowns in the Kansas River. Gets a snake bite and survives, only to die of dysentery before they reach the Bartow Trail. Buried on the trail.

Fez: Tailor. Drowns while caulking the wagon on the Kansas River. Buried on the trail.

[lartmansworld]

FIVE STUNNING PLACES TO VISIT t IN SOUTH AFRICA.

South Africa is a country of diverse landscapes and abundant beauty. Here are five stunning places to visit:

1. Cape Town and Table Mountain:

- Cape Town is a vibrant city known for its harbor, biodiversity, and beautiful beaches. Dominating the skyline is Table Mountain, a flat-topped peak that provides panoramic views of the city and is a must-visit for hikers and nature lovers. You can reach the summit via cable car or, for the more adventurous, by hiking up one of the many trails.

2. The Garden Route:

- This scenic stretch of the south-eastern coast of South Africa is famous for its lush greenery and diverse ecosystems. Along this route, you can explore charming towns, pristine beaches, and lagoons, and enjoy activities like whale watching, surfing, and visiting the Tsitsikamma Forest.

3. Kruger National Park:

- One of Africa's largest game reserves, Kruger National Park offers some of the best wildlife-viewing opportunities on the continent. Visitors can spot the "Big Five" (lion, leopard, rhinoceros, elephant, and Cape buffalo) and a myriad of other animal species on self-driven or guided safari tours.

4. The Drakensberg:

- The Drakensberg is the highest mountain range in South Africa and offers breathtaking views. It's a perfect location for outdoor enthusiasts with activities like hiking, rock climbing, and bird watching. The area also features ancient San rock art and is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

5. Blyde River Canyon:

- Located in the Mpumalanga province, Blyde River Canyon is one of the largest canyons on Earth and arguably the most beautiful in South Africa. Visitors can enjoy spectacular views from points like God's Window and the Three Rondavels. Adventure activities include hiking, river rafting, and hot air ballooning.

Each of these places captures a different aspect of South Africa's rich natural tapestry, from mountains to beaches to wildlife. They offer unique experiences that make South Africa an unforgettable destination.

[bomberqueen17]

pocket mans

so as you all know i got off a plane after midnight on thursday night / friday morning and spent several hours asleep, several more doing laundry and then found out i had to cross the state for a funeral. so things have been a mite hectic. i took the amtrak today, and the pokey mans were a lovely distraction for a bunch of it. i mostly couldn’t do much, of course, as PoGo is designed for walking and doesn’t work well at transit speeds, but I would occasionally check in-- here is a screenshot I took when I managed to stop laughing, of what it looked like as my little avatar sprinted madly across nothing in the backyards of the Utica/Rome region, because Pokemon Go’s maps don’t include trains so they had no idea how I was traveling at this speed not on a road.

cut for pictures

Note my hilarious totally-useless Magikarp buddy wildly trailing behind me, totally unable to keep up as I sprint at about 65 mph across this random open field. I tell you what, I could not stop laughing. [image description: a cartoon/computer game avatar of a skinny white woman in a straw hat and hiking boots {you don’t get to choose a body type beyond vaguely femme / vaguely masc, all thin} sprinting full tilt across a field; in the distance behind her a carp flops uselessly, mouth open and eyes vacant]

Even funnier, the train bridge across the Hudson River doesn’t appear in Pokemon’s maps database, so here’s how I crossed the mighty River-That-Flows-Both-Ways, with my useless Magikarp:

[image description: a rear view of the same skinny white video game avatar wandering over a flat blue surface in midair, the carp flopping vacantly around the same blue flat plane. In the distance looms the far (eastern) shore of the river.]

I did manage to fling a couple of pocket mans into various gyms-- the Rome train station is a gym that was at the time yellow, and there was one near the entry to the 33 in Buffalo, and one somewhere near Amsterdam. Go for it guys, I said, do some shit, don’t get Deliverance’d.

I got to M-L’s house and discovered that her roommate used to play Pokemon Go, pretty heavily, and stopped during the pandemic lockdown because she just wasn’t near any Pokestops and it got frustrating. I did eventually convince her to reactivate her account. She opened it up and remembered that she, a completionist at heart, had been methodically attempting to complete the entire Pokedex; she’s got about 900 pokey mans in there, mostly unique.

We went over to the farm for dinner and as I had thought, Farmkid was SUPER PUMPED to find out that I had Pokeymans ON MY PHONE. She’s a fan of the TV show and immediately ran to find me a book to loan me about them, and helped me go through and rename my best ones.

[image description: a small girl grinning at the camera with her arms out, holding an AR avatar of a Magikarp pokemon which has been virtually “placed” in the room she’s standing in]

Thanks to her my Magikarp buddy has been renamed from Failson, which was mean, to Floppiefins, which is cute. (She saw the Magikarp first on my screen and gasped and said in delight “Magikarps are useless” which was what I loved so much too.)

ok i gotta go to bed, tomorrow’s a long day with a lot of driving. we’re taking my mom’s car, and it’s me and M-L and Mom and one of my surviving aunts, and me and M-L are doing all of the driving.

(”I’ll do the driving down on long island,” M-L said, “in case you want to catch pockety mans there,” which is hilarious. She has never played the game but she has used her friend’s phone to catch pokeys while her friend was driving. she’s very familiar with the game. this is hilarious.)

I am expecting once my life is not unrelenting terribleness I will probably drift away from this mild obsession but at the moment i am so fucking stressed-out it’s been a blessed relief to just pointlessly hyperfocus on little digital guys in my phone. This is why I don’t game though, it’s all I can think about. So we’ll see how this goes.

In the meantime I only need two more Grimers to get enough candy to evolve one so stay tuned for further developments there. Also I caught about thirty Noibats today, including one shiny one, so. Yeah.