An unusually warm breeze wafted the brown leaves off the stairway. Whether the gust was a natural product of the night air, or whether it was caused by the still droning engines of the small jet was uncertain. Though the year was well into September, it seemed that the summer heat was not yet willing to release its grasp upon the area...at least not tonight. The jet, a reasonably sized passenger plane, disgorged a single occupant before turning and slowly taxiing down the paved runway towards the nearest hanger to be refueled. Soon, the whine of its engines faded away, overcome by the soft shuffling of fallen leaves slowly drifting across the runway as if on urgent errands only the plant world could decipher or comprehend.

Nate looked about the runway. Thirty meters to his left, a chain link fence, with a small gate a short distance away, glittered in the arc lamps that perpetually lit the small airport. Beyond this lay a road that swiftly disappeared into the night. Even farther away, a huddled mass of lights, presumably the town of Antigo itself, shown feebly, failing to bring even a slight illumination to the surrounding woodlands. A gibbous moon was reflected off a small pond to Nemida's right, but was quickly blotted out by a passing cloud. The air was heavy with the scent of coming rain, it probably would not do to stay out in the open. Tightening his hood, which had threatened to become dislodged in the growing wind, Nate set off towards the road, carrying the two large bags in his possession. A few strands of shockingly pale hair that had become disentangled from the confines of the hood were quickly tucked back into place.

Though it was deep into the night, the land about was bathed in a soft glow of the moon and the few stars that weren't engulfed in cloud cover. As Nate walked down the road, the grassy fields on either side were slowly overwhelmed by more and more trees. Shortly before the road disappeared into a virtual tunnel of limbs and leaves, Nate stopped, and looked up at the sky. Gazing through the wide expanses of space, he felt himself become slightly more relaxed. It was oddly comforting to know that, no matter what may happen to him, whether he succeeds of fails in his quest, long after his body had returned to the earth that had birthed him, the stars would still shine on, carelessly illuminating the earth. Nate found himself wondering, did the stars, and whatever may be around them, have to contend with the threat of the Wyrm? Did they even know of the Wyrm? Of Gaia? Did they care? If this world fell into the blind destructive chaos that threatened it, would the stars themselves dim, if only for a moment, in sadness? Or was the threat to mother Gaia also a threat to all the cosmos? Did the Weaver plan to tie up all the stars in the sky into a strict, predictable order? Did the Wyrm dream of devouring the bright pinpoints of light in the sky?

So many questions, yet Nate knew he must consign himself to perpetual ignorance. The best he could hope for was to possibly answer even a minute few of the questions he had about himself, about why he was here. Well, to be honest, he knew some of the reasons why he was here. He thought back to several moons in the past. Then, he wasn't in a temporate forested land. No, that was the time before his journey across the sea, a journey which his inner soul believed would lead to what he had sought his whole life.

Then, he sat on one side of the fire. Prints-In-The-Desert-Sand, his mentor, however briefly, sat on the other side. "Your spirit has been disturbed as of late."

"My spirit has always been disturbed," Nate replied distractedly, "You should know that better than anyone else."

"Yes, quite true," she replied patiently, "but I have seen a growing disquiet in you. You appear quite restless, not unusual for a Strider, but yours is tinged with something more than simple wanderlust."

"My goal, ever since I was a whelp, ever since my..." Nate started.

"...Stop," Prints-In stated curtly, raising a warning paw, "Tragic though your tale may be, your spiritual health will not be aided by endlessly reciting it, especially to one who has already heard it."

"Fine, ever since the event, you know that I have made it my goal to find the one who wronged me, who wronged my family, and bring him to justice," Nate stated.

"You cloak your words," Prints-In purred, "I know that it is not justice you wish to bring to him, you are no Philodox."

"Call it what you will," Nate growled, "it matters naught to me. As of late, though, I feel as though an opportunity has arisen, one that I cannot yet see the nature of, and every minute I spend not acting on it, it fades from my grasp. My spirit calls me, telling me there is a journey I must go on, a destination I must reason, but where that destination is, I cannot decipher."

"And you wish my help?" Prints-In asked.

"...Yes."

Prints-In thought for a few minutes. She reached a conclusion, "No."

Nate looked up, surprise showing in his pink eyes for a moment before they returned to their blank, emotionless stare, "No?"

"No, I cannot help you. Adept with spirits of the Umbra though I may be, this is an issue with your own spirit, and thus, must be resolved by you. I can, though, get you started."

Without waiting for a reply, Prints-In-The-Desert-Sand turned and rummaged briefly through her pack. A moment later, she brought out a roll of paper and spread it out on the sand. "A map of the world?" Nate asked.

"As we know it, yes," Prints-In replied, "Give me your hand."

Nate complied, and a second later, a pile of ash from the fire fell into his outstretched palm. In the middle of the ash, a single ember glowed dully. "Now," Prints-In commanded, "Drop the ash on the map, make sure it's reasonably well spread out."

Nate did so, and on a signal from Prints-In, waited. A few seconds passed, then Prints-In lifted the map and industriously blew the ash off it. Handing the map to Nate, she said, "Hold up the map between you and the fire, your spirit will illuminate the destination it wishes you to travel to."

Uncomprehending, but unquestioningly, Nate did as ordered, looking at the various countries and seas on the map as he blocked the fire's light from himself with the paper. It took a second for him to realize what he was looking at. At a single point in the map, a flickering light was shining. The light was from the fire, coming through a small hole in the map. The hole, Nate realized, was burned there, from the single live ember that had been in the ash when he dusted the map with it. "Have you found your destination?" Prints-In inquired.

Keeping track of the hole as he lay the map in the full light of the fire, Nate replied, "Yes, it is the city of...Antiga."

Prints-In looked for herself, "Across the Atlantic, I see. I can arrange for a flight there, but from then on, you are on your own."

"Is this where the one I seek is residing?" Nate asked.

"Who knows?" Prints-In replied, "all that is known for certain is this is where your spirit believes you should go."

Nate looked at the stars for a short while longer. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and spent a few more seconds bathing in the moonlight. Antiga. He had led himself here, perhaps he could find out why. Hoisting his packs, he walked on down the road, into the forest, towards the glowing lights of the city.