“ARAKTÉA’S NATURE IS changing. The new rivers are coming soon. Stay, and you will see it with your own eye.“ These had been the last words Wind had spoken as The Dark Loon had left him for the second and the last time. Though not a predictor, he mostly trusted their foresight, and now, looking down the valley between the unnamed mountains, he thought he could see their vague silhouette down there. Three decades had perhaps changed either of them, but despite of having similar visions, they continued to be creatures of different directions – different roots and slightly different truths. Though again tempted to see it all to an end, The Dark Loon had decided not to stay to watch the ground change. No, from now on, his direction was north.
There were certainly things to be done before he could retire from his many roles – things and strings that needed to be tied, executed, or weaved together. Not every game needed to be played out – this was something the land had forced him to learn. Lives were much too short in this realm and seeds grew much too slowly, but prophecies, he believed, would always come true in due time. “Perhaps even false ones,” he thought. Brushing off this seductive intrigue with a squeaking roll of his stiffening neck. Whatever sinister truths were lurking under the surface, he would see it all ascend from afar. Turning towards the rising sun, he saw a crow diving playfully in the lower lands, and at last, he felt a readiness to go back home. “Now, I will be an observer,” he said, stating a loose vow of a sort as he took his first descending step down the slope.