New environments were fruitful. A single step into a place one had never walked before carried with it the possibility of learning, of growth, of swallowing something that had not been available in the old country.
Different skies meant different lessons. Different foundations meant different weaves. A being who traveled, who truly traveled, came home denser than when they left, if they came home at all.
Because new environments were also deadly.
They were deadly precisely because they were new. The rules of the old country did not apply in the same way. The instincts forged over eons at home were, in a foreign Observable, only approximately correct, and approximately correct was the kind of wrongness that got a being killed.
The fruit grew on the same tree as the knife.
Achilles understood this, through the simple fact of having been both fruit and knife in the past.
