The sound of the water rippling along the raft is soothing. The early morning sunlight is spectacular as the Blackwater Cat glides along the river. The mist has mostly dissipated as the rising sun burns the last tendrils from the surface of the water. The call of the
ringed kingfisher splits the silence. Deciduous trees of medium height line the river. The sounds of the river are comforting. The day is turning out to be absolutely glorious. You are all gathered at the front of the Cat, admiring the morning and letting your breakfasts settle in your stomachs. MacLynn had you up earlier than usual this morning. He seems anxious to get to the Lost Village.
Suddenly, you hear a splash in the water just in front of the raft. You quickly glance to where the sound originated from, and see a rope rising out of the water, each end disappearing into the treeline at the edge of the river. The rope seems to stretch from bank to bank of the river, and the rope is quickly pulled about twelve feet above the surface of the water as it sails above your heads. As the Blackwater Cat floats under the rope, shouts emanate from the trees that seem to secure the rope, and men with swords come racing down the zip line on pulleys from each bank.
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