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.