» Together

Eira... Drawn out of the safety of the rainforest by a great commotion on the beach, Eira found herself gazing down from the rocky cliff-top upon a gathering too the queerest sort: a great many creatures she knew now to be natives of this Rift, were standing on the windy shoreline, mingling, with a larger tusked beast towards their centre. One furry blue ear slipped forward, lured from her sister within which the fairy Fay, was hidden. As she examined them from afar, the sickly filly noticed many more weaving in from the east and from the west,  and there came behind her a scrabble of hoof-steps that struck a chord of fear through her heart. Though she began to turn, there was no time, for a good few horses broke past the line of undergrowth and began, unknowingly perhaps, hustle her along with them down the slippery track toward the beach. Once started the descent became precarious, for the strangers that moved around her were sure in their stride and moved with unnerving speed; certainly more than the tiny insignificant waif which was now trapped in their procession. Thankfully however, their confidence arrived her safely to the bottom and swiftly she moved to their side and finally out across the soft, dry sand on her own. All around, there were jovial voices, ringing out above the steady roar of the crashing surf and Eira wandered between them with her gaunt face low and her ears set back - she did not particularly want their notice. As she neared the centre, a gentle voice touched her ears and she found, to her surprise, that the giant with the tusks was watching her, strange trunk extended to beckon her forward. “Come small one,” she insisted, even as the little hybrid dithered with nervous apprehension bleeding through her veins. “Wear this glitter.” The creature seemed kindly, calm, and she stepped nearer so that the Loricatrunc could paint the shining substance across her neck, back and tattered wings; then she turned, and, dipping the tip of her nose in the glitter, assisted the gentle matron in painting her other side. When she was lathered just like the horses lingering around her, Eira smiled softly at the tall creature and turned upon her chipped black hooves to find an easy route back through the steamy sea of bodies. Many were heading up the cliffs, so she too, made slowly in that direction, pausing once or twice to behold and absorb the wonder around her. "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden