Finally, in desperation, they loosed their most horrible weapon, germ warfare. But they forgot to protect themselves against their own malignity. The Semantic War ground to a shuddering halt. The carrion smell of death lay round the world.
The dufellation of the Wistick and the Moraddy.
So here I am, scuttling around in the forests like a lonely pack-rat. It is not the sort of life I would choose if there were any other choice. Yet life has become very simple.
I enjoy the simple things and I enjoy them with gusto. When I find food that suits my stomach, I am happy. When I quench my thirst, I am happy. When I see a beautiful sunset from one of my mountain crags, I am happy. It takes little when you have little, and there have been few men who have had less.
Only one thing troubles me. I suppose it doesn't matter, but I go on wondering.
I wonder which side was right. I mean really right.