But Peter could not smell the bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows were of less interest than the wonder and mystery of the shore close at hand.
He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his master.

There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes.
The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to Peter.

Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a chaos of loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams.
Love of life was gone out of him.

He saw no beauty.

The sun had changed.
The sky was different.