- R.D. Laing, 1927-1989, British Psychiatrist In the half-light of the woods, gnarled trunks rose alongside young trees from a bed of greenery. Cries of wild birds carried on the winds through the woods. Johan walked with the boy along a dirt path smoothed by time. A sky wrapped in the gray of winter peeked between gaps in the canopy overhead. Johan answered Ryota’s unasked question. “Almost there now. Really close.” The korjé had found the approach to the train and had pressed it. A burst of collaboration with Cathbad’s thugs had allowed him to escape with the boy. Saoghal was starting to feel far smaller than he ever thought possible. The path turned to skirt a tremendous redwood and ascended into heavier shade. The wind lessened but the air grew colder and damp. He took Ryota’s hand and led him from the path to the base of a knotty and ancient-looking tree. Pressing the center of a knot split the trunk open to reveal a rough doorway. It swung open to expose a set of stairs that wound down and away.
