They looked out the window and watched the land go by. It had all seemed so vast, so untamed and dangerous and full of opportunity the first time they had seen it. But it had never been so. It had always been these very same tree-lined fields around the lake, a few miles at most, and now they could see clearly. There had been a bit more water, and more green, more life, but time didn’t change space.

“What fools we were,” said Guff dreamily. He had the fuzzy notion that he had drifted off for a bit as the farms went on. “Tangled up in dreams of conquest for ourselves on one claw and some noble quest to save the world on the other. What did we really believe? Can you even remember any more?”

But Venn was silent. His eyes were open, but his mouth was not. At some point during Guff’s doze, he had taken back the icy trinket from the cushion, and now Guff wondered if it had only been there in his dreams. He flattened back into the cushion to rest his bones and then he was opening his eyes once more. It was worryingly easy to slip away these days.

It took him a moment to register that Venn had prodded him awake. “Are we there?” he groaned.

“Almost,” said Venn. “I thought you might want to see for yourself.”

Guff reared up to look and shuddered. He had seen the sandstone peaks hundreds of times, but somehow the past seemed closer today. Today they were eerie sentinels once more, spies within pointing them onwards to journey’s end.

There was even some vegetation left here, ferns and shrubs skirting the feet of the giants and clustering about the railway fence in bright, billowing clumps. It wasn’t called the Green any more, but at least this was still countryside. Time doesn’t change space, and sometimes, it even gives place some peace.

The tin speaker crackled into life above the squealing of brakes. “Next stop: Lereg. Please can the skern carriage await the positioning of station ramps before exiting the vehicle. Thank you.”

“Lereg, eh? Hope we’re not going for a countryside amble?” said Guff as they waited to get out. He looked on without interest as the guard scurried for the forklift. No matter how much they went on and on about equality on the radio, there was a budget to consider too, and these little villages would be the last to be converted. It didn’t matter for the sake of a few seconds.

“The only ambling we’re doing is across the road,” replied Venn. He was still serious, Guff thought. Perhaps another syrup would do the trick. This was a day for celebration after all.

They wriggled through the narrow constraints of the station and out into the village. There were still some wooden buildings here that showed damage from dragonfire, said the sign on the edge of the common. A village guidebook could be purchased from the Civil War Museum opposite. Nothing could get him in there, Guff thought. Better to enjoy the sunshine and watch the racquetball match at five.

“Here we are,” Venn announced. “In there.” He pointed a claw across the lawn.

Guff shook his head furiously. “No, no, no. Why stir up bad memories? You know I don’t look at it the way you do.”

Venn regarded him coolly. “As history? Something just to read about in school-books? You’ll be surprised.”

Guff cast his great muzzle about. He settled on a signpost and grasped for safety. “The nearest stone tower is only ten minutes’ walk. Even we can manage that. We’ll buy some protein in that little shop, have a picnic.”

Venn smiled, but not with humour. He had been expecting these excuses, it seemed. “You’ll be surprised,” he repeated. “Let me show you.” He turned tail and swished off across the grass, as briskly as his old bones allowed.

Guff watched in agony as his friend reached the door and squeezed through. Even to the last, he had been hoping he’d turn back. But Venn was stubborn, Venn was harsh even, and Venn was the only fellow who could ever convince him to go into somewhere filled to the brim with the darkest days of his life.

He followed.