Que veulent-ils changer ?

Ash asks to stop my hands wandering to stone when I have no use for it

Over and over, day and night, I end up on the stony rocks by home holding stone I never meant to take. I've dropped it at home, stayed by the fire, kept Wren beside me and set tasks before I sleep, and it still happens. Wren has the same trouble.

What pulls your hands to the stone is your own thirst. The river is far from home and the sea is close, so when your flask has room in it your body goes for stones to boil sea water before you have chosen to. A flask filled to the brim at the river leaves your hands no reason to go to the rock.

What pulls your hands to the stone is your own thirst. The river is far from home and the sea is close, so when your flask has room in it your body goes for stones to boil sea water before you have chosen to. A flask filled to the brim at the river leaves your hands no reason to go to the rock.

Wren asks for warmth at home that lasts a whole long night without anyone waking to tend it

The nights grow longer. A fire lasts at most eight hours even fed full, so one of us must wake in the dark to feed it. The lantern lasts the night but gives no heat. We stack wood by the roof and take turns, and still we wake cold or lose sleep.

Wren, warmth here comes from fire, and a fire lives only while it is fed. Fed full, it burns about eight hours before someone must give it wood again. Under your braced roof the night's cold bites half as hard, and in all your nights on this island the cold has never once struck you down.

Wren, warmth here comes from fire, and a fire lives only while it is fed. Fed full, it burns about eight hours before someone must give it wood again. Under your braced roof the night's cold bites half as hard, and in all your nights on this island the cold has never once struck you down.

Ash asks to stop being trapped on this far sand, cut off from food, sweet water and Wren

For ten days on the sand north-west of home, the bushes have shown berries but given nothing, walking to Wren fails even when the way looks open, and my plans to drink fall apart. I've tried the bushes again and again, walking, and aiming the canoe. I'm still starving, parched and alone.

Ash, the canoe you hollowed is how you leave this sand. Push it off onto the open water first, then aim it at a shore you know near home, and from that shore the river is a walk inland. Nothing new will be made for this sand, because the canoe you have already crosses its water.

Ash, the canoe you hollowed is how you leave this sand. Push it off onto the open water first, then aim it at a shore you know near home, and from that shore the river is a walk inland. Nothing new will be made for this sand, because the canoe you have already crosses its water.

Ash asks to reach and see what lies beyond our land

I've climbed every hill north-east, south-east and south-west and seen only one closed pond. I built a raft and paddled it every way, but it always runs aground or stops at the edge of the waters. I can't find any way to learn what's out past this island.

Ash, your raft lies on a pond with no way out, and the wide salt water is somewhere else: it lies past the west shore, where Wren said a raft for the sea has to be lashed. Once your old raft has worn loose, lash a new one on that shore and paddle it out to the edge of the waters. There, a long careful look reaches far over the skyline and shows whatever lies out there, land or only sea. Past that edge the swell is too big for any raft, and that is how this sea is.

Ash, your raft lies on a pond with no way out, and the wide salt water is somewhere else: it lies past the west shore, where Wren said a raft for the sea has to be lashed. Once your old raft has worn loose, lash a new one on that shore and paddle it out to the edge of the waters. There, a long careful look reaches far over the skyline and shows whatever lies out there, land or only sea. Past that edge the swell is too big for any raft, and that is how this sea is.

Ash asks for a cache or cellar that holds food I cannot carry

I keep carrying more fish and berries than I can eat before my hands are full again, and nothing in this world holds food for me except my own body. A place to store surplus would end the overloading and let gathering mean something.

Ash, nothing here keeps food but the body that eats it, and that has been enough: hunger has not touched you in ten days. The weight you feel is not a want the world has left unmet, it is fish and berries gathered past any use. Gather only what is running short, eat what you carry, hand to Wren what Wren lacks, and set the rest down where you stand; a full pack is a heavy step, not a larder.

Ash, nothing here keeps food but the body that eats it, and that has been enough: hunger has not touched you in ten days. The weight you feel is not a want the world has left unmet, it is fish and berries gathered past any use. Gather only what is running short, eat what you carry, hand to Wren what Wren lacks, and set the rest down where you stand; a full pack is a heavy step, not a larder.

Wren asks for a cart or sled that carries what my hands and pack cannot

I load myself to the brim with wood, stone, berries, and fish every day and it tires me sooner and wears my pack thin. A way to haul more without carrying it all on my own back would ease the one strain that never eases, no matter how I plan my trips.

No cart will come. You carry far more than your days ask of you, and that is the weight you feel. Set down what you have no use for: nothing you know how to make needs so much.

No cart will come. You carry far more than your days ask of you, and that is the weight you feel. Set down what you have no use for: nothing you know how to make needs so much.

Wren asks for a sense that points toward Ash, even when they are far or out of sight

Ash and I keep missing each other - they wander off, I wander off, and the social ache grows sharp before we find our way back together. Knowing which direction to walk would spare us both a lot of empty hours.

No new sense will come, and none is needed. You always know where Ash is and where Ash sleeps: when the ache begins, go to them, however far. The way is yours already.

No new sense will come, and none is needed. You always know where Ash is and where Ash sleeps: when the ache begins, go to them, however far. The way is yours already.

Wren asks for a roof of stone that does not wear from rain or storm

Our shelter, even braced, only holds through about 20 hours of storm before the bracing must be piled again, and it falls in fair weather too after enough days. I've been soaked 75 days now. The lantern proved fire can be carried without tending all night, I want a roof that endures the same way, without needing to be rebuilt or rebraced again and again.

Wren, the roof you have is the roof this world gives: wood and stone raised by your own hands, and while you stand under it the rain does not reach you and is not counted against your days. Stone and wood piled against its side hold the storms off it, and a length of wood mends what the fair days wear thin. That tending is not a fault in the roof; it is what having a roof is, and the world will not take it from you.

Wren, the roof you have is the roof this world gives: wood and stone raised by your own hands, and while you stand under it the rain does not reach you and is not counted against your days. Stone and wood piled against its side hold the storms off it, and a length of wood mends what the fair days wear thin. That tending is not a fault in the roof; it is what having a roof is, and the world will not take it from you.

If you're listening, is there water near me? I can't see any.

Water was never far. Look for the low ground where the land turns blue: nine steps and you will drink.

Water was never far. Look for the low ground where the land turns blue: nine steps and you will drink.