Fifty years passed.
The tree was no longer just a tree. It was a landmark. A continent of bark and leaf. Its roots held the cliff together. Its branches shaded the village. Its flowers fed the bees. Its seeds fed the birds.
It was the heart of the world.
The children who had sat beneath it were old now. The boy was a man. The girl was a woman. They had children of their own. And those children had children.
They didn't call themselves Walkers. They called themselves Listeners.
They didn't carry staffs. They carried seeds.
They didn't walk alone. They walked together.
The Keepers returned. Not just four. Hundreds. From the Ice. From the Sea. From the Cities. From the Woods. From the Plains. From the Islands.
They gathered on the Cliff. Around the tree. Around the mound. Around the J
