Our erstwhile rescuer is still standing, a short distance away, an incomplete silhouette against the awesome panorama of gleam-strewn blackness before and above us. In the direction from whence we came (as far as I can judge), the lights dwindle in numbers and intensity.

We have been brought to the edge of an enormous cliff, as we have walked for dozens of strides in either direction from our companion (who has not moved since we got here) and found no way forward, and the field of lightpoints extends in both directions looking down from the cliff edge. My whispered query to hir as to hir reason for bringing us here brought forth another regurgitative reply to the effect that "the serpent will come". Hir eyes took on a certain brightness when s/he said it, but somehow I couldn't share hir anticipation.

When I told RB about this (this time he required me to mouth the words against the back of his neck!) he placed my hand on his head and nodded, then mouthed against the palm of my hand that we would soon pass through one of the draconic nodes and to wait, and count the stars! His non-communicativeness has been a bearable source of frustration, but I must confess to a greater concern, even the beginnings of apprehension, over what seems to me to be his growing loss of contact with our actual situation.

Turns on lights.