That same beautifully warm breeze enveloped me, bringing the sweet scents of tree blossoms and wildflowers. I rose up on my elbow and saw Arla sitting across from me, holding a baby in her arms. Next to her, on the ground, sat the Traveler with his legs crossed in front of him. When he saw that I was awake, he smiled at me. I noticed now that in addition to the bumps and bruises that had been supplied by the river, my throat hurt terribly. “Arla, I’ve come to rescue you,” I said as I sat up. My head suddenly got light, and I fell onto my back again. They laughed as I scrabbled back to a sitting position. “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” she said, her voice cold and flat, the veil moving slightly with her words as it had in my dream of her. “I would have killed you, but Ea came and made me stop choking you.” “Where am I?” I asked. “Somehow, you came through the river into the false paradise. I found you washed up on the bank,” she said. “Arla,” I said, then paused, trying to consider the best manner with which to present my case.
