::luke's bedtime story::

Once beyond the village, they could smell the friendly fields again; and they braced themselves for the last long stretch, the home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound to end in the rattle of the door-latch, sudden firelight, and the sight of familiar things greeting us. They plodded along silently and steadily, each one thinking his own thoughts.

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame