"There you have even more experience than me," Ni'ka replied with a smile. "The marshlands I know are formed by smaller brooks and creeks flowing together, or by springs before they decide to become a brook or creek. Places where the water comes right out of the ground."
Txa'ren, however, was trying to wrap his mind around the image Waytelem's words had painted. "Rockhome all the way to this place?" he wondered. "That would be...I don't know... Wouldn't our part of Rockhome change too?" He knew that the land changed over the ages. There were Tsanten's songs about Clans having to decide how to move on after their territory changed from forest to grassland, and of course he knew that Rockhome hadn't always been there, the First Songs confirming that as much as the songs Spaz found in the stones. "So our offspring, in that 'million' of time, might live here and not know what our Rockhome looked like." He shook his head at the thought - the timeframe involved kind of blew his imagination.
"Even the mountains change," Ni'ka said, "and they look as if they could last forever." She blinked ahead into the slight haze that had formed over the marshland overnight and that the Suns hadn't dissolved yet. Then her eyes narrowed. "I'm not completely sure," she admitted, "but there's something ahead that doesn't quite look like a cloud." She pointed at a still small, brownish spot in the distance.