Thorn keeps up, nonetheless. 

"My upbringing's closer to Earth than Neath, I think. I don't really belong to either. How far are we from Earth, here?"

"Two cosmic thresholds, one to the Neath and then a less arduous one to the Surface. See, the Neath is underneath Earth, but still very much its own thing. Or possibly who the hell knows how long through the High Wilderness, I heard Earth is around a star out there somewhere. We just don't know which star it is, if it's even one of the ones we can see here. -Don't spend too long looking at the stars," she warns suddenly, "It can make you go crazy, and it's bad luck besides."

"Alright," she says. "I won't look at the stars." 

She quietly files away her new destination in her head. Earth exists in many worlds and is usually a hub of production and trade, so she should head there. The High Wilderness and the Neath are new, but she'll have to cross both of them to reach Earth. So. Neathwards. 

They get to the top of the stairway. There's two paths further on, both more like mountain trails. They look fairly precarious. The guide looks Thorn up and down and clucks consideringly. "You don't look like you need a rope, but ask if you do, alright? The name's Primrose, and my 'nym is the Hooded Guide."

"I should be fine without one. The name's Thorn; I don't have a settled 'nym." 

"I'd call you the Runed Wanderer if it comes up."

She takes the right path. Eventually they have to skip across streams and over gaps between rocks. Every step and leap the Guide is perfectly comfortable, though she does call out 'watch my feet' for a couple of tricky sections.

And then a left turn off the path, to a little cabin in a relatively flat spot, built halfway into the cliff face with a tiny pond and a medium-sized garden out front. A man wearing a straw hat is tending the garden. Primrose waves.

"Thorn here arrived without a locomotive. Seems like a decent sort, but very foreign. Wants a place to stay until she can get passage."

"Foreign like French, or foreign like the Blue Kingdom?"

"Sort of between? More like French. I think."

The gardener shakes his head.

"Oh, this is the Dour Guide, Hans. Hans, Thorn."

"A pleasure, I'm sure."

She follows adroitly, but feels chron spend on a particularly difficult section. She curses under her breath, but keeps up. 

When they finally turn off the path, she smiles at the gardens and the hut. "Lovely." She curtseys to Hans in greeting. "It is indeed a pleasure." 

"She can stay for a day or two if she helps out with the chores a bit, yes?"

Hans nods, frowning, and goes back to weeding the garden.

"Don't mind him. He's out here for the solitude, but it's just not safe to live all on your own. I think that was the case even on the Surface!"

"It's alright. I know the type. Mind if I drop my pack somewhere and get to work right away?" 

"Sure, anywhere inside is fine. Ah, what could we use help with- Chopping firewood or helping Hans in the garden, I suppose. Or lifting rocks up from this little quarry we have with ropes with me, I've been meaning to get to it so we can shore up the house a bit but it's a two person job and one of us usually waits to guide folk up and hint heavily about tips so we can buy supplies."

"I'll take the quarry. Should be easy enough for me to help out with." 

Here's a spot where she can put her pack down. This dwelling is solidly low-tech but not outright primitive. They have fairly nice furniture and a woodstove and kerosene lamps and steel tools and plumbing and large plate-glass windows (colored a faint green that tinges all the light entering from outside) and a desk clock and a porcelain tea set arranged in a glass cabinet and a large photograph of a highly vertical Victorian city centered on some kind of palace on the wall. Primrose fetches up coils of rope and a block-and-tackle from a closet, and they're off again - further along the path, but without any really tricky sections this time.

"I'm not sure where to start explaining the High Wilderness. Especially if you came to it some other way than through the Neath."

"I'm more or less from Earth, so... explain to me what an Earther ought to know. Like the stars." She smiles slightly, and keeps up with Primrose's pace.

"Okay... So, the laws of physics are a bit less reliable out here. It was even moreso in the Neath, death wasn't very reliable in the Neath. About the only good damn thing about the Neath, that. Bit more reliable up here. Sunlight is law, right, because suns are Judgements - gods. More or less. Each one shines with its own laws, and that gets confusing and crazy-making if you don't spend enough time under stained glass and journaling to pick out strange urges. We don't have any local suns in the Reach or Albion, so humanity can do our own thing for a while. Nonwithstanding all the other old unhappy things that wander here. Don't tell me you're Catholic or something now, that'd be awkward."

"No, I'm not Catholic. And thank you for the explanation: I have no doubt it'll be invaluable."

"Of course. What kind of place is Oifilei? Is that a city, a polity, a region? We're at the far edge of the Reach, a sizable region more-or-less colonized by London - the city and polity both go by that name, London."

"It's a region named after the trading company that colonized it. I'm a representative, but a very lost one." 

"What, trading company like the Windward Company? Careful, there. They're not much liked by some."

"Something like that. And I'll mind who I mention that to."

Most of her guests are happier to divulge interesting gossip. But she won't pry too much, that'd be rude.

"Of course, you wouldn't know what exactly the Windward Company is any more than you knew to stay away from Traitor's Wood."

The guide lapses into silence. Soon they get to a spot where there's a mediumish climb down, already fitted with pitons and grips. The thunder of the falls is quieter here, about as muted as it was near the cabin. About fifty feet below is a small shelf of clean grey stone, many of the rocks already cut into rough rectangles. She'll work with no more talking than is necessary to give Thorn instructions, unless she has further questions.

She doesn't. She lets Primrose lead, then follows by example. She's strong and no stranger to physical labour, so between the two of them they should make good time.

It definitely goes a lot faster with two since they don't need to climb up and down dozens of times.

"Plenty enough work for a night's stay. I can get them back to the cabin another time."

It's getting dark. She leaves the big rocks piled up along the path and goes back. Hans is cooking and silently provides a plate of potatoes and mushrooms. Primrose mutters a thanks to him, eats quietly, then fetches out a blanket and sets it by their small couch, then starts writing in a journal.

Thorn gets out her bedroll from the top of her pack, and sets it down in an unoccupied space that's hopefully out of the way. She nods to Hans. "Is there enough for me? I don't mind going to bed hungry." 

"Mm, go on, eat. Hospitality."

"I'd offer you tea as well but we're out," Primrose comments. "-Er, don't eat most mushrooms you see. These are a particular and safe kind."

She takes a portion. 

"I do have some familiarity with wilderness survival, yes. Though these mushrooms aren't a type I know. The lack of tea is hardly a hardship." 

She eats, and then she curls up to rest on her bedroll. She makes no further attempts at conversation.