“Really tired,” Bram complained from the end of the line. Hem, Crawley, and Bram were out in the Fleep Fleep forest doin’ some investigatin’ in the Deeps. They been out here most of the day and had no sorta mission, understand, just a rather aimless adventure typical of the boys of this part of the land. We all did it and had the memories to show for it.

“We’ll head back in a few dockets,” answered Hem from the front, “let’s just see where this trail ends and then we can turn ourselves right back.” His walkin’ stick clacked against the stony path they’d found. He kept his eyes ahead. Crawley in the middle kept lookin’ into the trees and imaginin’ what else was out there to find. Bram was sorta done but had less heart to say so in a direct fashion. Paths were neat. Stony paths, now those were somethin’ worth followin’.

In later years Hem and Bram’s friendship would weaken, deteriorate, and ultimately dissolve into a collection of old memories that would not withstand adulthood. Stuff like that happens even amongst the most dedicated. Life hits ya in weird unexpected ways that the bonds of youth can’t anticipate, it’s just the truth.

Hem would eventually get hisself outta the Outlands, not right away mind you, he’s got some time left to put into these parts, but on enough occasions he’ll be takin’ advantage of opportunities that just might be catapultin’ him into certain danger but just the sorta adventure he hinted at during that conversation with Blom. He’ll be findin’ more than he ‘spected and finds more questions than answers.

Bram well ol’ Bram ends up choosin’ a different sorta path no less virtuous or of value to the world, just different is all. He ends up right away pickin’ up a sweet lass by the name of Looma Gurgadam from Gilba Gilba, settlin’ down in his folks’ second home that they built themselves and lives out the sorta lifestyle he always wanted, mere streets away from the first home. Hem and he drift apart on account of a pile of vastly different life experiences despite half-hearted attempts to stay connected across the maps. Ain’t no substitute for the real thing and letters only do so much, ya reckon right on that account.

Hem in his travels well he don’t really meet anyone that catches his heart in quite the same fashion and he wanders the maps of Assol with an eye for newness and challenge, leavin’ a trail of broken hearts behind him which he can’t exactly take pride in. Hem in his later years reconciles himself to the fact that mayhap Bram didn’t quite appreciate his stories of the wide world and ever-evolvin’ attitudes that doubtless seemed a condemnation on Bram’s own chosen lifestyle of quiet and solitude. One of his many regrets was he didn’t pick up on that perspective sooner. All his unanswered letters to his childhood friend suddenly become a bit more clear. Letters go both ways o’ course and Bram could’ve been tryin’ a little harder to see how Hem was doin’ in the world if he truly had some interest in how things were farin’ outside Gilba Gilba.

Crawley on the other hand well he more or less struck a balance between Hem and Bram and put less serious effort into the equations that make for lifelong sustained remembrances and for that reason managed to keep most of his alive.

These soberin’ realities are years away however and for now these three tight pals have to see where this stony path leads.