Merlin lost himself in the scenery, drifted off through the beaten-copper colour of the trees into names, letters, animals and birds, shapes and numbers. He let the impressions wash through him, undisturbed because he was used to them by now, almost shaken out of it when Zach spoke to him. He heard the other boy's voice as if from far away, and not just in terms of distance.
"Unlikely but who knows. The leaves will fall and-" he stopped, distant and silent.