Down to Gehenna, or up to the Throne,
He travels fastest, who travels alone
-Rudyard Kipling
You know how it goes. The feeling at the back of your neck like someone's watching.
Except, this time, it's a feeling inside your head. Altering your course by a few, scant degrees. Barely noticeable. Minute.
Just like continental drift.
This is a place of titans. Filled with memories of fire and smoke and laughter and shouting. The echoed splash of water gives life to memories of sleep and the smell of skin and cooking meat.
Remember that Kipling passage about the cost of debts and dogs.
Wonder.
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