“For all Dex’s protesting about the sanctity of trails, it was only in absence that Dex truly understood what a trail was. They had been on hikes through protected lands before and had ridden through more untended places than they could count in their years on the tea route. Those experiences had been soothing, calming, somewhat meditative. It did not take much brain to make your feet follow a path, and that meant your thoughts had ample room to drift and slow. Walking through uncut wilderness was another matter entirely, and Dex felt something primal awaken in them, a laser-focused state of mind they hadn’t known they possessed. There was no room for wandering fancies. All Dex could think was: watch the root, go left, that looks poisonous, mind that rock, is that safe, soft dirt, okay, go right, avoid that, careful, careful, CAREFUL. With every step, there were dozens of variants, and with each step after, the rules changed yet again. Travel on a trail felt liquid. Travel off of it, Dex was learning, felt sharp as glass.”

Becky Chambers, A Psalm For The Wild-Built (Page 86)