I''ve been on the road for as long as I can remember, and I''ve loved every second of it.


    Our troupe, the Restless Warblers, consists of around 40 musicians, actors, and poets, plus their children, lovers, friends, and some people who just want to follow along for a good time. My mother was one of the founding members. I''m told she gave birth to me in a moving caravan and got back up and played for a crowd of hundreds the next day. I was raised by a rotating cast of artists and dreamers while traversing the whole continent, never staying in the same place for more than a few weeks.


    It''s the only life I''ve ever known. The only life I care to know. Home is where you are surrounded by the people you love most, and for me it just doesn''t have a fixed location.


    Last month we hit a string of towns along the southeast border of Chavalia. They weren''t big towns, but visiting so many in quick succession had set us up quite nicely. We were able to get stocked up on enough supplies to make the long trek across the border, through the Revanni mountain range and into the isolated country of Veilsung.


    Now, Veilsung isn''t completely cut off from the rest of the world. There is some trade across their borders, and they don''t turn away travelers at the gates. It even has a few port cities along its southern shore. I''ve been to several of them before, and they''re just as bustling and diverse as any I''ve visited. Even so, the inner country is rarely traversed by outsiders, and immigration is almost unheard of.


    Part of it is the land itself. It''s all steep mountains and dry deserts, nigh inhospitable and so, so hot. Even the natives don''t travel overly much outside of their irrigated communities. Nearly all the water to be found here bubbles up from deep within the earth, and around those springs is where the towns and cities have sprung up. Between these oases stretches miles and miles of barren earth.


    The second thing that keeps outsiders out is the natives themselves. The serpent folk who call Veilsung their home are a cool, detached people, quick to welcome strangers into their communities and just as quick to let them know when they have overstayed their welcome. They are nothing if not polite, yet to truly be accepted as one of them is exceedingly rare.


    They do love music, though. And they certainly know how to have a good time. Traveling minstrels can make a pretty penny if they have the numbers and resources to stick it out through the extreme temperatures of the desert.


    We''ve hopped from town to town, making our way towards the country center, and after several weeks of fanning ourselves with sheet music and sweating bullets in the caravans while the sun was up, then laying under the stars in the blessedly cool nights, we''ve come to set up camp in Veilsung''s capital city of Dimos. Finally.


    I''ve been waiting ages to come back here.


    In smaller towns, we typically set up camp on the outskirts, where there''s more room, but in a city as big as Dimos, we arranged to set up within city limits, in a large open field used for various outdoor events. It''s well into the afternoon before we''re done making camp, and then we get to start having fun.


    "Come see the Restless Warblers, the greatest traveling show in all Welkun," Suzanne proclaims from our street corner, waving her hands in grandiose sweeps. She''s human, but she''s tall and easily spotted even among the many serpent folk who surround her. "Theater, music, art and dance the likes of which you''ve never before seen!"


    Portia stands beside her, accompanying her words with great flourishes on her violin. Together, they always draw a crowd, and today is no different.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    I hand out fliers from the stack of paper in my hands. A good amount of time was spent this morning writing the location of our current venue on each page. Not by me though, since my handwriting is god-awful. I''m guessing Portia was on that team, based on the circles over the i''s.


    "We''re here all week!" Suzanne says, all eyes on her and Portia as I work my way through the crowd smiling and passing out papers. "Join us tomorrow night for our opening performance! Dance the night away to music played by masters of their craft!"


    This is the drill. First night, after setting up camp, we separate into small groups and wander the town, spreading the word of our presence. Suzanne, Portia, and I have this down to a science. Portia has a sixth sense for knowing exactly when to move on to a new corner, Suzanne makes the exact same speech sound new and captivating every time she says it, and I''m the master navigator who keeps us from getting lost even in the biggest cities.


    Dimos is quite a big city, but it really doesn''t need as much of my expertise, since it''s built along the side of one mountain, and you can see where our camp is set up just by looking downhill.


    "My feet are killing me," Portia complains after the crowd has thinned out. "How much further up do we have to go? Can''t we move like, across the incline?" She''s a halfling, so she''s usually complaining about her shorter legs hurting by this time in the process.


    "Move laterally if you want, but I''m going all the way to the top," I say.


    Portia groans. "I forgot that was your plan. No way in hell am I following you all that way though, Cat."


    "It''s getting late, and we''re only about two thirds of the way up right now," Suzanne chimes in. "If you really want to go all the way to the top by sunset, we probably have to split off. I can handle fliers and the speech."


    I grasp her hand tight and look up deeply into her eyes. "Suzanne. You are my rock. My foundation. Without you I would be forever adrift on an endless sea. I am eternally in your debt."


    Suzanne titters gleefully at my exaggerated praise as I press my stack of paper into her arms, then take off on a run to continue my trek to the top of this city''s long slope. She''s right, it is getting late, and though we will be here for a full week, there won''t be a better opportunity for me to take off on my own in the evening than this first night.


    One of my strongest childhood memories is of when we last stopped in this city. I was around ten years old, and our troupe had been invited to play in the king''s castle, all the way at the top. On the other side of the mountain, the ground falls away sharply as an impossibly tall cliff. I remember looking out on the scene that stretched out beyond the ledge, impossibly vast and bathed in the pink light of the sunset, listening to the music swell behind me, and wishing I could stay in that place, in that moment, for all eternity.


    Now I''ve finally come back to the same place that so transfixed me as a child, and I feel compelled to relive that moment. But quiet, and alone. No crowds of people dancing and talking around me. No adults to impose a bedtime. Just me and the endless expanse of earth beyond the peak of Dimos.


    I try to remind myself of the serenity that awaits at the top as I trudge up the seemingly endless slope, breathing getting more and more ragged with each step.


    I thought singing was supposed to give you greater lung capacity? Sure doesn''t feel like it…


    The castle dominates much of the mountain''s peak, but there is some space to either side that civilians can access to see over the other side. I struggle up the last few steps to the public garden on the west side of the castle and am rewarded with a mostly flat expanse of grass and flowers, beautiful in the light of the rapidly lowering sun. Utterly out of breath, the back of my thighs burning like crazy, I traverse the last gentle slope -- downwards, thank god -- to lean against a short stone wall at the edge of the world.


    It''s exactly as I remember it. Endless. Vast. Picturesque. Only this time I am alone, steeped in a profound silence against which I can only hear my ragged breaths and the pounding of my ceaseless heart.  I close my eyes for a moment and breathe in as deeply as I can manage, centering myself, feeling the gentle wind caress my face and cool my overheated skin.  I get as close as I can, pressing myself against the safety wall, trying to make it look like there''s no ground beneath me at all, that I''m a single fixed point high above the earth.  I sink into a headspace of deep serenity and lose myself in the silent beauty of the earth.


    Then, from behind me, I hear the noise of someone clearing their throat, and I jump so hard I feel the world spin.