"All places have a name," he argues, convinced of the truth of it and yet doubting himself for a moment all the same. She gestures, and he follows, altering his long-legged stride to keep pace with her. It's a relief to feel they're making some kind of progress. An errant breeze ruffles the edge of the scarf, and he reaches to adjust it. "Even a forgotten one is still...it carries a presence. I think."