» the calm before the storm

Eira... It seemed their combined effort was working. As Eira placed another small stone against the crevice of two strategically positioned boulders, the wrathful river began to slow its course and fold back into the bed it should rightfully occupy. Hours had passed slowly, perhaps even half the day had been lost to this supernatural struggle, and the small, malformed yearling was fighting back the tears of her exhaustion when at last a strange stillness overwhelmed the raging torrent. Her lungs purged a heavy, labouring breath and her knees ached, desperate to fold into the soft mud left in wake of the event. Instead, Eira stood in the open by herself, with legs splayed (not unlike a newborn’s), breast heaving while her weary eyes sought the impression of the bear god as he materialised once again from the snow atop the waterfall, high above them all. His rumbling voice descended, commending their work generously and suggesting that there should be no repeat to challenge them—this news alone easily delivering the feeling of relief through the ill child’s faint-heart. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, yet it seemed to weaken as the bear again vanished from her sight. Nervously, she passed her eyes across the others still gathered, surprised to see upon them symbolic adornments that had before, not been. Her chin dipped then, towards her own well-furred breast. Upon it was a necklace like theirs, though she could not see that it was instead a bear with exquisite blue-crystal eyes. Amazed, undeniably so, her brightened gaze ascended towards that of Roscorro, Kiada and any other who seemed equally as inspired by the unexpected offering. "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