Don's vertigo was slight but consistent. He felt thirsty and still hungry. Although the air was warm, like a mild summer day, his lack of clothes was bothersome. He felt more complete, physically, than he had felt in his entire life - and was entirely comfortable in his nakedness. He felt as if he had returned to Paradise. The shock of meeting this Frisian had returned his shame at his nudity, nevertheless he marched on, following his reserved companion.

As they continued, the dense foliage turned to deep forest with large trees rising up sparingly from the knotted floor. High above, the sun speckled through the high boughes. The Don's stomach gnawed at him and he could feel the giddiness of his lack of repas.

"Frisian, hold a bit." He sank to his knee in the loam of the path. He put his hand to his head and rested his spinning skull in his hand. The days of march and change had taken their toll. He felt as he had the night he fell against the tree befuddled by drugs and atrophy.

"Penitent - you keep me from my goal! What holds you?!" The Frisian scarcley looked back , so anxious he was to reach his home.

"I need to eat, friend. I've been....," Don stumbled, not clear on what he could say, losing the energy to finish his thoughts.

The Frisian stepped back and surveyed his companion's state. "You seem to be fading away, stranger. I swear you've put on twenty years since you woke....." He paused and looked about. "This is a fine spot to camp, here. My goal is a way before us. I should break with you here a bit."

Don slipped to the ground and watched the branches spin about. His eyes closed and his body convulsed as he passed out.

As the dark spun about a faint silhouette or illuminated shape wheeled away and back. Don tried to focus on the glow, but felt too ill to make the effort.

"Keihole ! Come to me!" He could feel a hand grasp a tuft of hair at the back of his head. "Keihole! Right here!" Don opened his eyes and looked into the hard stare of a pair of faded blue eyes. He opened his eyes wide - "Yes. Alright, I'm here," he murmured. The blue eyes pulled him to a clarity of consciousness that felt like crumbling paper.

"Keep your wits. You'll still need them awhile yet.." The voice was sharp, but wavering. Don looked at the wizened face and grey locks of a thin old man tucked into a great coat like a robe. He had a little black cap on his head flecked with dark and light grey. His grip was strong on Don's hand and the power of his person seemed even greater.

"Have you lost your way?" The old man cackled. Don wondered what would be so funny about that. "Yes, you look quite lost. Let's give you something so you don't attract too much attention." He pulled Don to his feet and slapped him on the cheek. "That should open up your mind. No way to meet your maker - with those years of dissolution clouding your way. Snap up boy! Unlock that bit you've got hidden away."

Don shook his head. He didn't know where he was now. The forest had gone dark - or he was in some dark place. The old curmudgeon was the only thing he could see except for himself. He couldn't tell from where the light was coming that illuminated the two of them.

"Here, take this, Traveller," the old man reachd into a bag at his feet and pulled out a ball of cloth. " This will carry you through til when we meet next." He unfurled the cloth and Don could see it was a rough pair of pants and a blouse. "Put these on and get yourself ready!" The old man admonished him. With that Don was suddenly in darkness, spinning about and falling.