"Of course you do," he says, tone dipping as he re-oriented his idea of the village around its room full of hatchets and survival knives. Everyone having a knife must be why he found at least three in his supplies: logically more knives made him safer and more prepared for all the cooking and greeting people he'd done.

Not for the first time, he plunges forward into the trees and thinks: what is my life?

"If we wanted to make a project of it, we could double the distance between each and see which numbers end up where," he offers. "I don't know how much daylight that might eat up if you're trying to get to the top in one go." Taking a single step forward, he scratches a two; two steps past that for a three. Slow progress, bad for conversation, and the walls themselves don't see to be going anywhere.