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Yaalk'ali would be there waiting as the children made the finish stretch of their first march into the wetlands at the far southern reaches of the continent. Though he could not hear it, the smell of salt lingered in the air. The water was brackish here in parts. The long salt was near. Certainly Caan would guide their path to view it. A sight of the ocean down here would prove far different then the dark, icy waters and bitter straight line winds in the coasts to the north. Far more pleasant, tropical, yet hot, especially so now at the height of summer. Winter had lasted far longer in this land than he had ever known before. He wondered if summers would be the same.

Yaal was settled along a slab of unbleached rock which sat on the lakebed of a great, large lake. Flapping along the shallows and poking for food within its marshy banks were hundreds and hundreds of bright red ibis. The vibrancy of their color would be a finish line for the children and their work. Sacred of color. Ice Raven smiled upon those who had made it thus far. Now, they had but to do it all over again in order to get home. Ice Raven smiles, but he also laughs.