Without destination, I move through this human city, following only where that indescribable feeling leads. I follow it through the streets, bustling with people speaking their distinct dialect. It, like the palace ruins, is the only vestige of the Silla past that remain. Yet I cannot even pause to enjoy the old sound, for I am always searching for...something. But what? “Easy,” I bring down a hand to rest against his flank. That is when I see the feet, only several paces from Silver’s hooves. They are clad in white trainers, a fabric bag dangling near them. The fabric is attached to the clenched hand of a dumbfounded human, who is blinking rapidly as if horse and rider will vanish from his sight at any moment.  I cannot move for surprise, and my stomach spasms a painful confusion that rises up to my chest.  Does this human...see me?