Walking through the flickering light of the courtyard, Sam's footsteps on the wooden floor made him feel as if he were crossing a bridge. In his life, he hadn't crossed many bridges, most of them back in Cedarwood.
He remembered one bridge made of stone; stepping on it felt no different from the ground, except for the sound of the river rushing under it, growing louder as one drew nearer. It wasn't a gentle stream, but a roaring torrent.
At that moment, Sam realized that everything in nature had a voice, not just beings with human language.
What it spoke—anger or peace—wasn't for humans to know.
He understood that he needed to do everything in his power to survive, to pass each challenge life threw at him. As long as he was alive, he couldn't say life was too hard; at least it hadn't killed him.
