Four hexes southeast, two south of Alakran.
If everyone used to speak of Halluwitar in awe and reverence, nobody has ever spoken of its perpendicular twin. This dry lake nestles in the hills instead of straddling the river. It stays wet for no more than three days after a good rain before the devouring aquifer below sucks away its life. Birds fly over it, curious, but none dare land to drink.
To behold this nameless lake creates a sensation that can be likened to gazing on one's own scooped-out brainpan. The dread so engendered is irrational. It must be resisted with the body and not the mind or soul. It must be dispelled by directing the eyes to a blue and untroubled sky, the gripping of soles on solid ground.
Yakanasshar, the sun-blasted old campaigner who is the master scout of the Notch garrison and mentor to the Urig adventurer Nepelope, will tell you how he freed himself from the snare by picking up and throwing a stone in it. He told himself in full belief, "This is the first of the million million stones that will make a hill out of this wound in the earth!" What worked for him, may not, however, work for you, now that you know it is but a trick. Yakanasshar's expedient certainly did not even occur to the minds that once inhabited the dozen husks of wanderers who beheld the lake, folded themselves in despair, and let thirst and exposure take them.
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