Out of the boat she stepped then, and found the earth all paved of a
middling gravel, and nought at all growing there, not even the smallest
of herbs; and she stooped down and searched the gravel, and found
neither worm nor beetle therein, nay nor any one of the sharp and slimy
creatures which are wont in such ground.
A little further she went, and yet a little further, and no change
there was in the land; and yet she went on and found nothing; and she
wended her ways southward by the sun, and the day was windless.
At last she had gone a long way and had no sight of water south of the
isle, nor had she seen any hill, nay, not so much as an ant-heap,
whence she might look further around; and it seemed to her that she
might go on for ever, and reach the heart of Nowhither at last.
Wherefore she thought she would turn back and depart this ugly isle,
and that no other adventure abided her therein. And by now it was high
noon; and she turned about and took a few steps on the backward road.
But even therewith it seemed as if the sun, which heretofore had been
shining brightly in the heavens, went out as a burnt-down candle, and
all was become dull grey over head, as all under foot was a dull dun.
But Birdalone deemed she could follow a straight course back again, and
so walked on sturdily. Hour after hour she went and stayed not, but saw
before her no glimpse of the northern shore, and no change in the
aspect of the ground about her.
It had so happened that a little before she had turned to go back, she
had eaten her dinner of a piece of bread and a morsel of cheese, and
now as she stooped and peered on the ground, looking for some sign of
the way, as her foot-prints going south, and had her eyes low anigh the
earth, she saw something white at her feet in the gathering dusk (for
the day was wearing), and she put her hand to it and lifted it, and
found it a crumb of bread, and knew that it must have come from her
dinner of’ seven hours ago, whereas till that time her bread had lain
unbroken in her scrip. Fear and anguish smote her therewith, for she
saw that in that dull land, every piece whereof was like every other
piece, she must have gone about in a ring, and come back again to where
she first turned to make for the northern shore.
Yet would she not cast aside all hope, but clad herself in her
valiancy. Forsooth she knew it availed nought to try to move on in the
twilight; so she laid herself down on that waste, and made up her mind
to sleep if she might, and abide the new day there, and then to strive
with the way once more, for belike, she thought, it may be fair
to-morrow, and the sun shining. And as she was very weary with tramping
the waste all day, she fell asleep at once, and slept the short night
through.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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