Days of travel blurred into a rhythm of dawn departures and dusk camps, of endless roads and changing skies. The landscape transformed around us with each passing mile, shedding the gentle familiarity of the southern heartland and taking on a wilder, more ancient character that spoke of forces older than the empire itself.
The first change was subtle—the cultivated fields giving way to rough pasture, the neat stone walls replaced by tumbled rock piles that spoke of centuries of clearing rather than careful construction. The farms grew fewer and farther between, their buildings more fortress than home, with thick walls and narrow windows that spoke of a history of raids and border disputes that had shaped the people who lived here.
