(Credit: Adrian, www.flickr.com/photos/75421567@N00/4316298880)
During the night dew fell on my face and left pearls on my cheeks, and when I woke in the morning, I wondered at the riches which had come to me in this wasteland. It seemed strange to me that these jagged rocks and thorny bushes which were adverse to finding both food and company would let me keep such treasures.
Still wondering, I climbed a hill and saw the sun rising behind buildings. It then struck me that maybe the pearls were a cruel joke, something to sow discord before friendship could ever take root.
So I wiped the dew away and licked my fingers and they were salty.
A Bolg? 