Goldmoon choked back her tears. “Where will you go? What will you do?”

Riverwind drew back enough to study her face. Her brilliant blue eyes were gilded with tears. He brushed a drop of moisture from her cheek with his thumb. “I'll go where the sun and wind take me. The gods are not bound by mortal barriers. I will seek them in the quiet places-the mountains, deserts, the deep forests. I'll find them, then come back to you.”

A smile lightened Goldmoon's face. Here, in Riverwind's arms, her doubts dwindled.

They kissed long enough for Arrowthorn to rap impatiently on the front pole of Riverwind's tent. Riverwind caressed Goldmoon's cheek and smoothed her radiant hair. “Time to go,” he said.

Riverwind's tent was outside the wall of the village, by the road that led west to the land of the Que-Kiri. Arrowthorn and the elders waited for the young warrior. They made sure he carried only a scant day's rations. Riverwind was allowed to take his bow and his long-handled saber. In his old but well-oiled leather breastplate and his fringed deerskins, he was ready.

Goldmoon had dried her tears, but inside, her heart was breaking. In the three centuries since the Cataclysm had rent the land, the old gods had slept. They were so absent from the lives of the people of Krynn that most had forgotten them or had consigned them to the realm of dreams. How could one man, even her stalwart Riverwind, hope to succeed where generations had come to naught?

Riverwind made polite good-byes to the elders and cast a secret, loving look to Goldmoon. Then, he shouldered his pouch and strode off, his long legs covering the ground quickly.

“Riverwind!” Goldmoon called. He turned and waved, but never broke his stride. Arrowthorn glared at his daughter for her breach of behavior. Goldmoon missed the look. Her eyes were only for Riverwind as he followed the dirt road south and east until the curving village wall blocked him from sight.