Bearclaw Valley "—learn to use these things."

It was like walking through a neighborhood where everything was the same, except it was empty. Where you could walk by places that were so familiar and yet living in these liminal spaces, suspended in time in one's memory until you experience them again, and see the truth.

He came to the storehouse.

That's not what it was, now. The valley had reclaimed what hadn't been touched in years. Glaukos found his way to it and as he passed by what would have been the entrance, he saw only the invasive vines that had by now dominated everything. He saw how the stonework had eroded. He saw how the shape of the opening had somehow become smaller (but in fact he had grown immense since his last visit here).

A part of him expected to smell herbs, tinctures, and the like; but as Glaukos came to the mouth of this place he cleared some of the vines with some tugs of his teeth, and all he could find was the vegetal scent of springtime.

As he withdraws, he snorts to clear the smell from his sinuses and looks around at the surrounding paths, each having become overgrown from disuse as well.