My people worship their ancestors. I know how far back the paths we walk do stretch.

When we step forward, we do little but leave footprints behind us. They are binding. They fit to our feet, and no one else may follow in the route we take. They twist out of sight in both directions, and no one may predict where they will lead or how history will shape forks unseen. They are our promised future, and our irredeemable past.

They will always remain.

Come. With me.