They were only a day out of the Dragonlands, firmly leaving the volcanic wastes behind them and now moving into far more hospitable territory, and it was then Handy’s heart began to break. There were none of the majestic, towering mountains to be found here, instead rolling hills leading to low mountains that were far below having a snow line. There were no impossible expanses of forests here—the Everfree was to their south and they had turned northwards once they began hitting the plains that lay north of those woodlands. Instead, there were sparse copses of woods and small forests scattered, almost carelessly, between vast expanses of uneven farmland sectioned by crumbling stone walls put in place by generations of farmers, and simple dirt roads with long furrows dug into them by centuries of passing wagons and carts.