I’d walk a thousand roads,
cross ten thousand more,
stride eight hundred thousand,
if you were what’s in store,
if all these paths unending,
brought me back home to you,
I’d walk my way through everything,
to the winding roads stay true,
It’s not the journey’s end,
for it’s all part of you,
the unhappy beginning,
when you say we’re through,
Oh I’d walk a thousand roads,
stride ten thousand more,
cross every winding forest road,
If it brings me back to your door.
– The Winding Roads, circa 600 E.R.
Kiannae walked up to an orange tree after seeing other passersby taking one. She plucked an overly large fruit, and tossed it to her sister, then got lost considering the tree itself. An indecisive urge which one she wanted.
Tree was almost a misnomer. It was nearly dwarf in stature, though it had spread out well, and full. It seemed that the tree had decided growing large was not so much a priority, as producing fruit. Which it did with remarkable haste, given the frequencies passersby plucked an orange. Kiannae tilted her head at the feel of just how very deep the roots went. It was at least a century old, and had either grown right into a ley potential, or maybe even changed it. That was interesting. She could feel a faint familiar tug, as though the diminutive tree was tied to the absurdly large presence in the west of the city. The arrangement was painfully familiar.Continue reading “Chapter III:29”