Part 2

Johel Meuller compared the numbering of his ticket stub to that of the train cabin, a box lined with two bench seats and a large window peering out at the landscape beyond; rushing by as the carriages leapt away from Benyon county station. Autumnal leaves cooked rich brown and rouge by the heat of the passing summer streaked by from the rich boulevards of the central township, the cute cottages and white brick townhouses retreating quickly into the distance as the train line rose from the valley, the immensity of the vineyards rolled out over the verdant green carpeting the landscape; far, far into the distance, so far in fact that there conclusion became distorted by deep shadows cast across the valley many kilometers away, the afternoon sun beating down ever relentlessly on the fertile lands of the valley. It more like an oil painting than a true place, sun cast perfectly, the thin ticks of white from the township, picket fences lining the roads, a few sheep and llama paddocks; great, healthy animals springing about, stirred from there feed by the sound of the train cutting away into the mountains. And beyond the paddocks came the vineyards, thousands of acres dedicated to the viticulture. This time of year many were draped with bird netting, like enormous sheets of green webbing holding back the chirping minions so focused on building up there food supplies ready for the long winter months ahead. Johel stowed his bags and found a seat in the empty cabin, swaying with the gentle rocks and bumps of the hover-train over the track, soaking up the final few seconds of the valley before the train took him away for another winter. He smiled softly over his home, everything the light touched, before trees rushed into his line of sight, followed by carved rock as the rail cut into the mountain side, climbing as it may up away from the valley below. Johel breathed deeply and shut his eyes, resting his head against the backrest, feeling the pull of the train rock him hypnotically. It forced him to the edge of a