NIGHT of passage, come to the Way Among Giants. The path is the same path, threading among trunks too vast to be seen whole; but the Sister has taken the gilded hour from it, and the coins of spent light scattered on the forest floor are changed to silver, the ferns burning frost-white where they burned gold before. He appeareth a narrow way drawn on into the dark between pillars now wholly black, their crowns lost in a pale and sunless glow. His office is that of every honest road by night: to remain. The giants close their ranks in the dark, and the way bends out of sight before it ends, exactly as it does by day; for the path does not need to see to know where it is going.
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