"In Spring we gather the first flowers and dance to the Earth Mother, She who blesses us with her bounty. In Summer, we call to the gentle rains, that She may drink. In Autumn, we give thanks for Her bounty. During Winter, we tell many tales, so that She may dream undisturbed, untroubled by the evil that made the Burning Lands."
He smiled as he listened, though his thoughts were of other, carefree days of his own, that seemed now a great long time in the past. "Is it true," he asked her at last, "that your people have no knowledge of us, or of any other of the peoples that inhabit the earth?"
"It is true," she said uncertainly, "but . . . well . . . until coming to your land, I always thought that dwarves and men were something made up. Not to frighten children!" she blurted. "Those stories were always about goblins and trolls and gnomes. And dragons and Demons, of course, but we already knew about them."
"I see," he said, trying not to smile. "Tell me, where exactly is your home, from that point we can see, out there where the land and the sea meet? And isn't the Island of Dragons just to the right of where we can see?"