I walk down to the waters edge, my harp wrapped up and slung across my shoulder. As I walk across the island, I wonder at the fallen stones around me. Some say that this was a city of giants or gods. For myself, I don't know - but the mystery of those who were here before is one that makes my skin tingle.

I reach the sea and sit upon a rock. I unwrap my harp from his otterskin bag and try to play. But the winds are too strong, and wish to play the harp themselves. So after a short while, I give up the battle and let them whisper about the strings, sending eerie melodies that twist with the crash of waves and the cries of gulls.