The Homeward Road

The road was long, but the traveler’s steps were light. He had left the merchant’s town behind, but he carried the memory of it with him. The quiet storeroom, the single pale shoot reaching for the light—it was a memory that warmed him against the chill of the open road.

He knew he was carrying more than just a memory. He was carrying a message, a silent story to be delivered to the elder Nyra.

He pictured her face, the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners when he told her of the seed that had taken root so far to the south. The thought spurred him on, each step a word in the long, silent sentence of his journey home.