Duma looked peaceful at the statement that the only reason was no one else had tried. He knew how to make things grow, plants were silent and so he was kin with them. He would find seeds, and tend them, he would grow flowers to fight the loneliness that was blossoming inside of him.

He did not know anything about the city, but he assumed Yorda would. She reminded him of the funny fallen cherubs, innocent yet with enough knowlege about the working of the place they were in.

Duma offered her his hand, inclining his head to indicate that she might walk with him.