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" Tanis answered. “You’ll slow us up if you don’t.” “The men in my tribe can travel for many days without sleep,” Riverwind said. His eyes were dull and glazed, and he seemed to stare at nothing. Tanis started to argue, then sighed and kept quiet. He knew that he could never truly understand the agony the Plainsman was suffering. To have friends and family—an entire life—utterly destroyed, must be so devastating that the mind shrank from even imagining it. Tanis left him and walked over to where Flint was sitting carving at a piece of wood. “You might as well get some sleep,” Tanis told the dwarf. “I’ll watch for a while.” Flint nodded. “I heard you yelling over there.” He sheathed his dagger and thrust the piece of wood into a pouch. “Defending Que-shu?” Tanis frowned at the memory. Shivering in the chill night, he wrapped his cloak around him, drew up his hood. “Any idea where we are?” he asked Flint. “The Plainsman says we’re on a road known as Sageway East,” the dwarf answered. He stretched out on the cold ground, dragging a blanket up around his shoulders. "
― Margaret Weis , Dragons of Autumn Twilight (Dragonlance: Chronicles, #1)
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" The grasslands are endless, And summer sings on, And Goldmoon the princess Loves a poor man’s son. Her father the chieftain Makes long roads between them: The grasslands are endless, and summer sings on. The grasslands are waving, The sky’s rim is gray, The chieftain sends Riverwind East and away, To search for strong magic At the lip of the morning, The grasslands are waving, the sky’s rim is gray. O Riverwind, where have you gone? O Riverwind, autumn comes on. I sit by the river And look to the sunrise, But the sun rises over the mountains alone. The grasslands are fading, The summer wind dies, He comes back, the darkness Of stones in his eyes. He carries a blue staff As bright as a glacier: The grasslands are fading, the summer wind dies. The grasslands are fragile, As yellow as flame, The chieftain makes mockery Of Riverwind’s claim. He orders the people To stone the young warrior: The grasslands are fragile, as yellow as flame. The grassland has faded, And autumn is here. The girl joins her lover, The stones whistle near, The staff flares in blue light And both of them vanish: The grasslands are faded, and autumn is here. "
― Margaret Weis , Dragons of Autumn Twilight (Dragonlance: Chronicles, #1)
