[Far, far in the future, there may come a day when Erenville no longer feels wonder at the vastness of the world. On that day, he's promised himself he will recognize it is time to retire. Worldliness is no excuse for complacency.]

Well, unless you intend to rush me about and magically complete my tasks in the space of bells, we will be here for several sunrises.

[He looks east, though the sun has long since passed the horizon and sits in a sky of deep blue with only faint wisps of clouds to interrupt it. Again he tries to take it all in, and can't quite: the soft wind stirring the long grass, the sound of a nearby stream, the necessity of turning himself physically to see anything close to the whole place. At times, things like this make his island home seem impossibly small.

More recently, he's been beset by the terrible knowledge that they might have lost all this. Permanently. It would have become a pale memory, at best.

Erenville shrugs up his pack again and takes a few steps down the gently worn path leading out of the pass.]

Were it not for my understanding of the dangers of the local fauna, I would be content to let my feet take me where they will for some time.