The road was abandoned as I walked it. My boots made no sound upon the
soil patterned haphazardly with cobblestones and grass. Eoeun were home
from their fields and shops taking dinner with their families. Later there
would be Eoeun on this road again as they set out to enjoy the evening
with neighbors or at the inn.
But
now only I walked upon it, only I was out of doors. I stopped, taking in
the fresh moist air. It smelled of small fires of mooran wood and spiced
Eoeun dumplings and the hooves of herders. It smelled of the river.