Sartore’s heart felt ready to pop when he broke through the vegetation and into the sunlight. He collapsed at the edge of the woods, underneath the heat of the sun, shivering as the wind brushed past him. There was grass poking into every part of his face; every once in a while, as his chest rose and fell, one blade would slide and feel like an incredibly sharp needle against his leg, and he would scramble madly to get away from it and clutch at the deep wound, only for feeling to be gone after he’d let go.

He let his head rest on its side, pointed down and back into the woods. Whatever business Maisero had left to take care of, Sartore thought, must be finished by now. But Sartore couldn’t see him.

Eventually, when he had the strength, and as the sun began to set, Sartore crawled back towards the trees and sat against one. He tried almost desperately to watch the sunset, but was drawn away by the woods—every time he looked down the path and found nobody there, he became more certain that Maisero was just around the corner.

He fell asleep just before dusk.

It was as if someone had painted in more features to the landscape while he’d been sleeping. After his eyes cut through the sheet of white light that greeted them, he heard and noticed a creek flowing from the trees and out towards the horizon, which was spotted with a hill and loner trees that must not have been good at making friends, not even with each other.

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Of course, Maisero was nowhere in sight. His anxiety was like a fresh coat of needles his heart wore. What terrible business had Maisero gotten himself caught up in? After far too long doing nothing but sitting there, staring either at the darkness or at his feet, Sartore reminded himself what Maisero had told him: I’ll catch up with you. With little else to direct him, Sartore rose and followed the river.

Over the hill, the procession of grass continued, forming an aisle for Sartore to cross through. The creek widened into a river, one that became progressively more violent. Sartore wasn’t sure why there was more water here than there was flowing at any spot in the creek.

Sartore saw a stork appear from some unknown point in the sky and land in the creek. Its feathers were unkempt, as if a child had glued them haphazardly onto its body. The stork rubbed the flat of its beak against its neck in a failed attempt to flatten its feathers. The stork did so with its eyes trained on something in the water. Suddenly, its long beak shot out snatched a large fish that the stork could barely keep a hold of, and flew away with it, disappearing to the same unknown point it came from.

The river narrowed. Not far from him, Sartore noticed a city that the river crossed through. Sartore ran now, and soon arrived at the destination.

When he stopped to catch his breath, he was arrested by the strangeness of it. The tall buildings, at one point perhaps magnificent, were now dilapidated. Even worse, there was not a single person in sight.