Sing A Song of Tsingy: The Red Hot Rocks Of Madagascar

It snaked towards us slowly. A scarlet, silted, rust-red, blood-red, iron-tinged flow. The water seeped around the edges of my boots, my footprints swallowed up within seconds.It visibly stained my soles.Up ahead, I saw two men walking, the two men who were travelling with me. But no other soul was there.