Blacktail Deer Plateau coming to a close, we're down by ten.

Grayday gave a careless shrug. "I see somethin', that's for sure. It's fuzzy, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful. Not to me," he explained. And it was true that he wouldn't know the trees from the grass if it weren't for common sense. Those dark blotches could be anything, considering how ill-defined they were to his weathered eyes. But he knew they could be little else. And that river could be a long string of pale rocks, but how would that have happened? "I can see just enough, if you ask me. And when I'm blind, I suppose I'll say the same thing."

He'd miss it, of course. He'd miss looking at the beautiful faces of his children, and seeing the silver of the moon light up everything in sight. But he missed looking at his father, didn't he? And when he'd still lived in Alaska, he'd missed the moon during those long months of daylight. Grayday would get through it, same as he always did.

He turned his gaze to Moonstone and studied her for a moment, remembering something she'd said when they met. "When we met, you said you knew what it was like. Is there something wrong with your sight?" he asked her.