“Doesn’t matter what she was doing.” James cut them both off, pointing up ahead. There was a deep river running straight through the path, and a gate on the other side beyond which the world itself crumbled away to nothing. The river was perhaps fifty feet across, with that churning look to its surface that suggested an incredibly rapid current underneath. And yet a single skiff waited on the shore, with a robed pony and a pole. The boat might permit three ponies to cross at a time, if they packed in tight.