I smile fleetingly, and move around the clearing a little, looking into the shadows as far as I can- which is, admittedly, a substantial distance. Still, the jungle is thick, and though the island isn't, I've been told, very large,

"Apparently, so is whoever designed this place. As gilded cages go, it's... well done, what I can see of it. Then again, 'stone walls do not a prison make'," I say. People often forget the second half of Lovelace's rhyme, but the point is, if your mind is free, if your soul is free, then that is the truest freedom a man can achieve, regardless of his physical circumstance. Bucky knows, better than anyone I have ever met, the importance of that, what that means. He had literally everything taken from him, for so long. I know the nature of this place must chafe, for him, but I can't help but wonder- and it's not as naive a thought as it might seem- if there's a reason we're here.