Adam had been pacing about the top of the hill with his gaze directed at the horizon. “Would that I had paid closer attention last night when we could see the entirety of the Land. I wish now that I had committed it to memory. Obviously enough we are west of the Hive and the Palace.” He nodded back toward those landmarks, which still seemed quite close, though faint haze hinted at the distance that the three of them had covered during the night and the morning. Then he turned and looked the other way. “Farther west yet, I see a thickness about the horizon that makes me think this is only the first of many hills we might encounter, were we to keep walking.”

“I remember storm-topped mountains far to the north,” said Eve, gazing that way in vain for some glimpse of white peaks or towering clouds.

“Scattered across the Land, here and there, were glowing skeins of light, reminding me of the Red Web,” said Adam.

“In those, I thought I saw order, and movement,” said Eve, “which made me think they might be the habitations of other souls. Do you recall the plain of broken rubble on which the angel set us down last night? In it could be seen remnants of dwellings, no greater than the humblest outbuildings of the Palace, between which were paved ways on which souls might walk  . . .”

Adam was nodding. “The glowing patches we viewed from the top of the world last night had something of the same in them. Very unlike the Hive. It is possible that if we go to such a place we will find souls who are not angels, nor Hive cells, but more akin to what we are.”

“I cannot guess in which direction we ought to search,” Eve said.

“Nor I,” confessed Adam, “but I am weary, and the sound of the breeze in the branches is lulling me to sleep, and it seems likely to me that if we awaken after dark, we might be able to see such lights in the distance. Or, if not, perhaps Mab can fly higher and see more, and tell us which way we ought to go.”

Adam sat down at the base of the tree and leaned back against its trunk and soon drowsed off.