The island was his, and his alone. Perhaps it hadn't always been like that. There was a sort of stone building there, small and round with a canopy over it. It had always puzzled him. Perhaps the ones who had built the bridge had placed it there, foreseeing the need that now consumed him. If he had ever known the truth of it, he didn't recall.
The island was small, little more than a copse of trees in the vastness of the waters. The river was deep all around. There were no gently sloping shores; beneath the surface, the sides of the island were cliff walls falling vertically down to the depths.
He paused at the water's edge. Bands of mist drifted through bright sunlight. The unceasing flow of the river swept past him, the movement disorientating. The scents of the woods gave way to those
