As they say: “Soon the fairy tale will tell itself, but it won’t happen soon...”. That's how it is with me. I had the desire to pursue Gaia’s kidnappers, but the possibilities were still limited. Despite all the regenerative abilities of my body, the wound healed difficultly and painfully, although the local doctor constantly assured me that anyone else in my place would have long ago given his soul to the local gods. Of course, I mentally agreed with him, because I perfectly understood that I survived only thanks to the help of the Observer. I admit, this wasn’t much of a consolation. Gaia was in the hands of unknown people, and this worried me much more than my own health, but all attempts to go on the road ended somewhere in the middle of the street, from where caring villagers returned me in a state of prostration back to the inn room. Nevertheless, the next day, with the tenacity of a fly hitting the glass, I made a new attempt, and everything was repeated all over again. Over the course of a week, this has already become akin to some kind of habit and entertainment for the entire village; it seems to me that some onlookers even made bets on whose fence I would get to during my next visit.