The thick walls and low windows of his room gently filtered the early morning sounds: birdcalls, leaves rustling against the house, the distant sound of flowing water. Odd to find an atmosphere of restful peace in a town that never sleeps, Mark thought, smiling to himself. He himself had done a lot of sleeping lately. He was in Eerin's family home in Lalcipind. Though a major population center and host to the WirElspind, Lalcipind was, in its own way, as wedded to the natural elements as the little nahah. A wide valley, caught among foothills even greener and more rolling than those he'd hiked half a continent away, held communal fields and gardens, public areas, and gently landscaped parks in its lush palm. On either boundary ran the mountain- born, swift-rushing rivers, Rainel and Rainwo. Hillsides rose in all directions away from each of the two rivers, and homes melted gracefully into the rocks and trees of the gentle slopes. I'll miss this place, Mark thought.
