They ride hard. The last days are upon them. They finally recognise the terrain. It sings to them as an old refrain... welcome home children, come in and around. Peace you will find here in a walled garden your parents' parents built... peace.
But one rider is worried. She pulls in on her own, allows the caravan pass her by. She knows the rules have changed -- nothing can ever be the same again.
This is not home.
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