Puddleglum can't remember when he has ever been so cold before, and that faraway wigwam seems like a haven of warmth and rest to him; no matter how many times he had predicted it would fall or catch fire or let in the draft, it had always been a faithful wigwam. Wait, what was that? He strains his eyes as he passes yet another oddly shaped projection, but of course it couldn't be the ruined city; how could they find something so easily that no one else has ever been able to find before? And anyways, the Harfang Giants close their gates so early; likely enough they're late as it is...