Leaving the path. Lured by an emerald. I wander into the Bog of Names. . Now I'm stuck fast. Calves sorry henges. Glued with the silence of newts in the gloaming.
Here we are at the Fortress of Long Wings. My fellows bristling with anticipation. At slurp among their supperbowls. A map of steam in the rafters overheard.
I am come straight from the palace. Through the toadsong to your step. At the behest of the king. With a gift for your temple. I have lugged this strange contraption.