Giolladhe felt older than dirt. Over the past month, he had been, at turns, mentor and guardian, big brother and friend. He felt weary, his steps heavy, as he slowly made his way in the direction of a river he knew was nearby, reflexively counting the steps and avoiding familiar obstacles.
As he felt the breeze ruffle his cape and sending the ends of the bandana which protected his unseeing eyes from the glare of day, he revised his plans. While soaking in the stream had sounded wonderful, perhaps a drink before searching out hot springs would suit even better.
The sound of someone availing themselves of the cool waters let Giolladhe know he had reached his destination. Using that as a guide, as well as the sound of the stream itself, he made it to the banks without mishap.
When he was able to go a day without making a fool of himself due to his handicap, even though he was able to compensate for the lack of sight very well, it was a good day. And so far, he had been accident free, and so he felt it was going to be a good day indeed.
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