Anya felt herself lifted, and was flying above the land like a hawk. There were snow-filled mountains and warm fens, great fields and forests, lakes and peat bogs. All around it was a great thundering sea—it was a large island, she was surprised to realize. It was magnificent. She wished she was a bard, for she wanted to make up a song to praise the land’s wonders, but she knew that nothing she could sing would do it any justice.