"Toward the mountains, where rain catches in the hills. There were forms near... not moving, always watching. A stock pond, not far, but the only hunters chased your people now, not ducks."
Perhaps realizing this is all very vague, Rye-Mother looks aside in thought, then shakes their head. "I cannot measure in your time or your distance. You know the unmoving faces? The pond?"
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Perhaps realizing this is all very vague, Rye-Mother looks aside in thought, then shakes their head. "I cannot measure in your time or your distance. You know the unmoving faces? The pond?"