“By Guoit, why didn’t you ever point one out to me, bruther?”
Ehomba shrugged. “There was no need to. You would not have enjoyed entering them anyway. Most were warm burrows.”
The swordsman’s expression twisted. “There are different kinds of burrows?”
“Certainly. It depends which colors the tomuwogs are burrowing between. If red and yellow, which are hot colors and seem to be more common, then the burrow will be warm, or even scalding. If the blue is separated by black instead of green, then conditions inside the burrow can be extremely cold.” He smiled appreciatively. “Blue-green is best, though it is still a little warm for running. A darker blue, more indigo, would have made for an even more comfortable refuge.”
Simna sat shaking his head in amazement and disbelief. “To think that such wonders exist all around us, in every time and place, and want only the knowing of them to be seen and utilized.”
“Oh, there is much more, my friend. Much more.” The herdsman bit into a large, crunchy piece of preserved apple. “The world is awash in marvels that most men never see. Usually it is because they are too busy, too hurried, to look. Looking takes time. One does not become a good tracker overnight.”
Simna nodded slowly. “Or a good hand with a sword. In the learning of that, I bled a lot. It took me many years, many curses, and many cuts before I became proficient.”
“As does the accumulation of any worthwhile knowledge,” Ehomba agreed.
Tilting and turning his head, Simna took in more of the remarkable chamber. “The corridor we came through was not large for a person, but pretty big for a burrowing animal. These tomuwogs must be of good size.”