“It’s a good thing you’re not alone, then,” she says. “None of us are.” And that’s true, too, isn’t it? Despite the journey, none of them are missing.

(No, that’s not quite true, is it? There are people who should be here who aren’t. But their absence feels different, somehow. Long ago, in a place far, far away…)

“I don’t know how far I’m going,” she admits, “but I don’t think going to Gaia should be too much for me. As long as there are new places to see, new people to meet, and new feelings to… to feel, then I don’t mind coming along. You and Triangles and me, and the sheeps, and the yellows, and the lot of us together, until we all find the places we’re going.”

She takes the princess by the elbow and leads her on. See? Each step is a step further than you could have done alone. And that’s because two feet are— wait, no, hold on, four, right? It’s four feet are better than two, said the centaur— or is that how it goes? It can’t possibly go up to eight, that’s a terrible number for feet. Doubling past that is getting to be too much all around. So maybe sticking to two feet, but it’s one each?

This is a deeply engrossing conundrum.