Act 1: The Island Tiny shapes circle high overhead in a clear blue sky, the distant cry of gulls carried on the wind. Beneath, waves of a much deeper hue roll across the surface of the sea, their tops dashed to a frothy white by a steady wind. The ocean extends in all directions as far as the eye can see, broken only by one small dark patch. Waves crash upon the patch, a flat rocky surface just breaking the surface, dousing it with foam. The larger waves entirely submerge it, water streaming off. The constant barrage wards off the distant birds seeking an easy meal, and the roar of the ocean here drowns out their calls. Time flows forward rapidly. The sun sets, painting the sky with reds and oranges before Mother Night spreads her glory across the sky. Even the sparkling stars do not provide enough light to discern the difference between air and water. Only the sound of the surf remains, sighing through the air-- rising, falling, eternally. Continuing to flow ever more rapidly, more time passes. The sun rises anew, then sets, only to rise again. Clouds appear, drifting across the sky. Sometimes they are soft-looking balls of fluff, while others they take on the menacing steel-gray hue of a storm, releasing a downpour as they pass with bright flashes of lightning and the crack of thunder. Clear skies give way to overcast, the sun completely hidden, then back as the years march by. One morning, shortly after dawn, the advance abruptly comes to a halt. On this day, only a handful of soft white clouds sedately drift across the sky above. There is little wind even down at the ocean's surface, where waves gently roll across the rock. All seems quite unchanged, even down to the cry of the circling birds far above. A sudden rumbling reverberates through the air. For a few seconds, nothing seems to happen... Suddenly, the rock explodes. Small shards of it fly through the air, accompanied by gobbets of molten lava. Thicker streams of lava geyser upwards, before splashing back down. As it falls back into the ocean, steam rises, obscuring the events transpiring within. The menacing orange-and-red light infusing the steam speaks of the continued violence within, flashing and gyrating wildly. Time once again begins to march forward rapidly, the days sliding past. The new land goes through short periods of seeming tranquility, seabirds using it as a base for their foraging, before lava bursts forth anew. The island grows ever higher, spreading across the ocean as molten rock flows to the sea and solidifies. Finally, the eruptions stop, the isle standing tall in the midst of the ocean. Clouds wreathe its peak, hiding it from view. Moisture is wrung from them as they pass, leaving one side of the island drenched, and the other bone-dry. The sides of the island are steep, jagged cliffs descending to the water below rendering them inaccessible, with one exception. On the dry side, the last of the lava flows has left a smooth path down to the sea. Yet nothing grows on this new land. It remains populated only by squalling birds, fighting over scraps seized from the waves battering themselves against the black rock. Rain carves gouges out of one side, rivers and waterfalls forming. The other side bakes under the sun, receiving only the pounding of the waves and the rare storm driven from another direction, avoiding the island's barrier. On one blustery, rain-soaked day, a bedraggled crow is driven north upon the winds. It settles down with relief behind a rocky outcropping, sheltering from the storm until it passes. Lightning cracks overhead as the bird huddles in upon itself, sodden wings plastered to its sides, for the rest of the day and through much of the night as well. Finally, the storm abates, and the crow shakes out its wings, letting them dry as the sky lightens to a gray. It looks around with curiosity, examining the black rock as the sun breaks the horizon. Only the remnants of the passing storm mar the sky above, the sun's rays piercing through them in bloody hues. The crow takes flight, exploring this new land where it has found itself. Plenty of water had been available to slake its thirst, but hunger drives it on. When it spots a pair of seagulls fighting over the corpse of a fish, it lands and watches. As the two gulls focus upon each other, the crow seizes its chance and seizes the fish in its talons, flying away with it, leaving the squabbling birds to their now-pointless feud. Now sated, the crow continues to explore. It seeks the highest vantage on the island, flying up. And up. And up, until it reaches the very top of the mountain. The wind roars here, keening through a narrow depression, the spray of water constantly gusting through the gap. On the other side, the crow sees a solid wall of mist driven up against the peak, but unable to pass. Glancing around, it notes a cave behind it, protected from the weather. The cave is empty, but something about it calls to the crow. There is a potential here, the feeling of something waiting to be born, yet for now it remains empty. The crow uses it as a base while it remains on the island, restoring its strength for the voyage back south-- home. After the crow has departed, something changes within the cave. Something small and green tears its way out of the rocky floor, growing. A mauve-coloured vine with wicked thorns growing along its length takes shape, stretching towards the gusting water outside. Unbeknownst to itself, the crow had brought along a passenger, one which has found fertile ground upon this barren isle. Act 2: The Tale of Leopards The isle appears once more, its appearance greatly changed. A thick jungle covers the western end, so thick that it seems all but impassable. Around the mountain's flanks exists more normal-looking forests, blackthorns and rowans and many more settled in. The eastern end of the island remains unchanged, at least from a distance. This side is still bone-dry as it slopes down to the sea, life seemingly impossible. Within the jungle, the trees cluster thickly together, hungrily stretching for the sky above. Their leaves are broad and thick, blocking most light from reaching the ground beneath. The air is hot and so humid that it feels almost solid-- when breathed, it is nearly akin to the sensation of drowning. Water constantly drips from the canopy far overhead, and the rare wind that pierces that barrier sluggishly stirs the air, providing no relief. Mauve vines as thick as a Loboshigaru's leg dangle from above, swaying slightly. Fierce, red-tipped barbs adorn their length, wickedly curved. Thick undergrowth completely obscures the ground. For a moment, one might wonder how it thrives without light, but the mystery does not last long. A timid-seeming deer picks its way carefully through the woods, attempting to avoid the vines which almost seem to drift towards it as if drawn by a lodestone. One of the vines touches its flank, caressing the deer's hide lovingly as it jerks. Eyes rolling in terror, it squeals and makes as if to leap away, but the vine tightens with a shocking suddenness and seizes the creature upwards. Other vines join in, twining around it, wringing the creature. Bones crackle and snap. The constant dripping of moisture turns bloody, and gobbets of flesh fall down into the undergrowth which had begun rustling and writhing in anticipation. Further within the jungle, where the mountain begins its sharp thrust upwards, a small cave is burrowed into its side. Within, three ungainly-looking leopard cubs huddle drowsily together in a pile, their legs occasionally twitching. Each is the same dark black colour in entirety, their heads seemingly too large for their furry little bodies. A large shape appears at the cave's entrance, fully obscuring what little light made it this far. The cubs jerk awake, heads swiveling to look, then they leap to their feet, mewing plaintively. The shape resolves into that of a much larger leopard dragging in the corpse of a sizable monkey, its furry arms trailing behind. The new arrival releases her prey in the middle of the cave, and sits down. Her tail twitches once as she looks at her cubs fondly. She speaks-- not in words, but with twitches of her whiskers and slight movements which her cubs know well by now. "Come, eat, my darlings." With that, the three cubs leap forward, legs windmilling against the stony floor as they race each other. The smallest of the three is no less fierce, refusing to let herself be muscled aside by her larger siblings, and the three of them begin to feast together as their mother watches. When they have had their fill, the cubs all cuddle together and form a little pile of fluff. It is impossible to tell where one ends and the next begins, their fur all blending together. Their mother drags the remnants of the monkey's corpse out of her den, and returns a time later. She settles down next to her cubs, rumbling softly as she too closes her eyes. Some time later, the smallest of the cub's eyes pop open, and she looks around herself. She stands up, staring at her nearest sibling, and her tail twitches behind her as she crouches down. With a sudden leap, she pounces upon him, growling, "I got you!" He jerks awake with a sudden yowl and darts away, his feet slipping on the cave's surface as he careens around wildly, leaving his sister staring in amusement. She glances at the third sibling, but he is already awake, staring at her warily. One of their mother's eyes had cracked open to watch, but it closes once more, satisfied that nothing is amiss. The days slowly advance, unfolding in much the same manner. Their mother hunts for their food, and they fill their time with sleep and play-- the play of practicing the hunt, learning to pounce upon the unwary victim, to find a place to hide and await the right moment, or even just the unbridled enthusiasm of youth as they race back and forth. It becomes clear that the smallest of the cubs is also the fiercest. The others tend to always keep a wary eye on her as they play. Whenever one lets their guard down, she strikes-- bowling them over, or landing on them from above, or even a swat across the nose, always accompanied by a mischievous expression on her too-large face, whiskers trembling with excitement. Yet they also seem to defer to her, following her about, joining in when she begins something. Always, their mother watches over them, and every time the youngest starts to venture forth-- curious about what lies beyond the portal-- she is scooped up in a large mouth and deposited back with her siblings. "I want to see what is out there!" she cries one day, staring avidly at the water dripping softly onto the ground outside. "Not yet," the deeper rumble returns from her mother. "But soon, darling one. Very soon." Every day, she grows more and more desperate. "This place feels too small!" she insists to her brothers. One of them simply continues grooming himself, while the other just tilts his head. "We will be ready soon," he replies. "Mother knows best. We should listen." The other pauses grooming just long enough to agree, before returning to his efforts. She eyes the exit carefully. Their mother has been gone longer than usual on this hunt, and she slowly steps towards it. "Stop!" her brother cries from behind her. She looks back, and he is sitting, staring at her fearfully, whiskers trembling. Yet he does not move. She decides to ignore him, and takes another step. "Don't do it!" the other continues, but now she ignores them as she reaches the exit. Outside, the air is thick and heavy, full of moisture. She watches the trees, their dangling vines swaying. She watches the brush, shifting. She listens to the cry of birds from above, suddenly so much more enticing and full of life now that she is on the verge of joining them. The cries of life fill the air-- life, and death, the struggle constant here, yet one that she has been mostly sheltered from until now. And this shelter's days are clearly at an end. She suddenly realizes that a shape is right in front of her, discerning it only because of a slight motion. A large, dark shape is right outside the cave. She studies it carefully-- clearly it had already been approaching before she ventured here, and paused when she came into sight. Its body is long, even longer than her mother's, but much thinner. It has no legs, and no fur either! Instead, its skin appears to be covered in small overlaying teardrop-shaped scales. The movement comes again, a forked tongue darting out to taste the air between a pair of curving fangs. A bead of moisture dangles from the end of each, as the creature stills itself. She continues to study it, meeting its eyes curiously, wondering what it might possibly be. "Perhaps it could be dinner!" she thinks to herself, pondering how she could possibly hunt it. It seems far too large, yet she somehow knows that backing away would be even more dangerous. Suddenly, a crashing sound emerges from the trees. The creature jerks, and then suddenly it strikes! Its mouth darts forward toward her, and she attempts to scramble to the side, but before she has moved even a short distance a large dark shape dashes between them. She hears a cough of pain-- her mother!-- as the shape hurtles past, dragging the odd-looking creature with her. The two disappear from view into the undergrowth, but the sound of their struggle fills the air, now so very close to home. The creature hisses loudly, and she hears more cries from her mother. But she also hears the growls, the strikes, and the sound of flesh being torn. Then, finally... silence. She stares fearfully, "Mother?" she calls softly. Behind her, her siblings crouch at the back end of the cave, huddling together in fright and trembling. The brushes shift, something passing, coming closer. The shape that emerges is her mother. The small cub suddenly is filled with joy. "Mother!" she chirps, as her mother comes closer. But after a few steps, it is clear that something is wrong. The steps are jerking, halting. Her fur is matted with blood, dripping to feed the hungry soil beneath. "MOTHER!" she cries now, in alarm, as the large leopard collapses. Her eyes, already beginning to film over, lock on her cub... and on the two larger ones now peeking out of the cave too. She lifts one of her front paws, stretching it out towards them... stretching... then falling. Her body ceases movement, water dripping over her and washing away the blood as the three cubs approach the remnants of what was their mother. They nudge at the corpse with their noses, plaintively calling for her to wake up, but there is no response as their fur grows sodden. A soft, sibilant sound fills the air around the cubs, cutting short their cries. With sudden horror, they look up to see a second snake, only a little smaller than the first and patterned in much the same way, slowly slithering through the soft wet ground towards them. In unison, the three of them leap towards the only 'safety' they have ever known, their cave. But the youngest realizes partway there how illusionary this is, and comes to a halt just inside the cave's mouth, spinning to face the approaching threat. Her tail sticks up behind her, puffing out to many times its normal size as she crouches down, back arched. She bares her small fangs at it, hissing loudly in reply to its own sounds, her claws extending. Behind her, her siblings crouch once more in a little frightened pile, pitifully crying for something, anything to make this nightmare end. No savior appears. Nothing happens, save for the steady approach of death. Supremely confident, the snake enters the range to strike at its prey, but it does not act. It seems to be amused at the show of defiance being displayed, hissing mockingly, "Sssuch bravery. Your mother hasss ssslain my mate, but that leavesss me with sssuch delightful morssselsss..." The young cub learned well from the lesson such a short while ago, and she does not wait. She launches herself at the creature before it can strike at her. In surprise, it attempts to strike, but overextends and misses her with its first bite as her claws latch onto its body just below its mouth. She claws and bites, tearing at its skin as it writhes, bleeding profusely. Yet her claws and fangs are not long enough to gouge a decisive death blow to the much larger reptile. Thrashing violently, the creature throws her off, clumps of its flesh tearing away with her claws as she goes flying. She lands on her paws, facing it once more as she crouches, its sticky blood coating her and plastering her fur to her sides. She faces it undaunted, claws kneading at the rocky cave floor in preparation as her eyes fix firmly upon her bloody foe. "You little wretch!" the snake hisses in fury, drawing itself up and towering over her. "You will die ssslowly. Painfully!" This time the snake does not attempt to play with its meal, but instead strikes, just as the little leopard leaps once again. Its fangs connect with her haunches, and she yowls in pain as she feels the venom pumping into her body. Yet she does not give up. She knows she is dead, now, but she will not let this creature win. She will not let it feast on her siblings. She will give them a chance, more of one than she has. She clutches herself to its body again, digging ever deeper into its throat as it writhes and screams in fury. She feels her body weakening. Her vision clouds, darkening at the edges, and then scoping inwards... until only a pinprick of sight remains, her target. Her foe. This one spot where if only she can rend deeply enough... and then even that winks out. Her body falls to the floor of the cave, two large holes in her hide, a white froth oozing from them. Foam frames her mouth, her body twisted horribly, wrenched beyond endurance from the violence of the snake's motions and her refusal to be dislodged. Bones break through the fur, red and jagged. The snake rears back once more, staring at her in disbelief, now silent. Then it, too, collapses. Dead. The cave is silent, now, as the two surviving cubs stare in horror at the scene before them... not even ready to think of what might come next. Only this moment exists, and this moment is too horrifying to comprehend. Even the whimpering meowls that had filled their throats earlier are choked short, unable to escape. There is no escape now. Only death awaits. Act 3: A Wyrden Rebirth Deep beneath the surface of a dark wood a seething mass buzzes, the intensity ever-shifting but never fading completely. Shadowy forms in the shape of varying insects churn around each other and the thick roots stretching greedily down from above like grasping, gnarled fingers. Most seem to move sluggishly, droning to one another and centering around the most powerful of their number, but the rare exception exists, shapes that dart and explore their home with more enthusiasm. One amongst these has taken a shape different than most of her counterparts. She appears as a small, shadowy hawk, emulating one of the wondrous creatures she encountered in the woods above some time past. She withstands the jeers of the others, deriding her for her differences, with graciousness. Their barbs mean nothing. Only the Wyrd, their home, truly matters, and this creature is as much of the Wyrd as the insectoid forms they embrace. She has even claimed a name for herself. Belza. She likes the sound of that. Down here, time does not seem to exist. Nothing exists to mark its passage. Yet something does gradually begin to infringe upon her awareness-- perhaps a smattering of days, or perhaps entire years, pass before she remarks upon it to herself. "It feels almost like an... echo." she thinks. "A reflection, perhaps? But oh, so very distant." She asks the other spirits about it. Can they feel it? Is it but her imagination? To a one, every spirit sneers and invariably replies with some form of "This is the only place that matters." Even Raemourne does not listen, buzzing with excitement about his current focus. She catches snippets of it, and it is simply more of the same that all hear from him. "Our time comes," or "the Forest wakes." Things of interest to the rest, but not what drives her. Thinking to herself, "I know there is something... I can't be mistaking this feeling," for the first time she decides to truly leave behind her kind and venture into the unknown. She seeps up from the ground to the surface, following the roots of the great trees above. On the surface, she cautiously moves from shadow to shadow, keeping a wary eye about herself until she reaches the edge of the mighty Glomdoring. "I hope I'm not making a mistake," she whispers aloud, gaze turning uncertainly back to the woods to her back. Ahead, an odd flat surface driving from east to west with the occasional odd-shaped traveler moving along it. Past that, following the draw of whatever it is that is calling to her, she sees the sun sparkling upon the water. "I will wait," she suddenly decides, "for Her presence. Her ascendance will be an auspicious time to begin." Thus decided, she lurks at the border within a bush, watching the decidedly strange creatures pass by. Some seem to be singing, and others stare to the north and appear as if they have already been on a long journey with a great deal of distance yet to go. Even more rarely, travelers clad in metal race by, leading hordes of lowing, lumbering shapes and bleating fleecy ones to some indeterminate end. Finally, the sun settles behind the horizon, and Mother Night ascends triumphantly into the sky. Stars sparkle amongst Her shroud, but the moon is not in evidence this evening. Satisfied, the spirit gathers herself together and, after a brief hesitation, launches herself into the air, wings moving soundlessly. Below, briefly, she sees a small sandy shore with rank after rank of dark wave marching endlessly onto it, noisily breaking. She finds herself swiftly cutting through the air above a wide bay, surrounded by land upon three sides. To the northeast, an extensive swampy marsh. Behind her, the road and the woods. She feels the strong call of home, demanding her swift return... but ahead, there is still that other, and her curiosity will not let her go. Three dark shapes of varying size pass, mounds of land breaking the surface of the bay. One appears to be an island of ruins, which is of no interest to her. Just as dull is the next, a land of towering structures and low buildings, and she swiftly passes it by. The third catches her attention, however. Trees cover it, and in its depths a swamp slowly bubbles and stickily belches. She circles it once, but it takes no longer than that to determine that this is not what she seeks, however it might appear. "Onwards, then," she whispers softly, turning once more to the northwest and the boundless sea beyond the bay's mouth. It does not take long before land disappears behind her. She soars low over the waves that stretch from horizon to horizon, until ahead the outline of a dark shape begins to blot out the stars behind. A thrill of recognition fills her being. "It's not home," she thinks to herself, "but it feels so similar..." Below, the waves turn into a beach of black sand, and a slope that flows upwards towards the mountain now looming before her. She drives on past the desert, until the first trees begin to push themselves up into the air. "Yes..." she thinks once more. "Somehow, this place is infused with the Wyrd, just as is home. There is so much potential here..." With excitement, she drives forward ever faster as the trees thicken into forest, and then the forest solidifies into a solid, impenetrable mass of life. "It hungers so," she muses to herself as she seeps through the interlocking canopy, dripping down into the space beneath, reveling in the sensation. She flits from place to place, avidly watching as the creatures lurking within feed on each other, and upon the forest, and as the forest feasts upon them in turn. The days and nights pass quickly as she bathes in the desperate, constant struggle for life which so often fails. It is a struggle she misses mightily, and she yearns for it. She remembers little of her life before her current self, small flashes. Flashes of emotion pulsing through the blood, the feelings of the flesh. Touching, tasting, even the pain that indicates that life has not yet fled... A passing snake catches the spirit's attention. "Such a fine specimen," she muses thoughtfully to herself. On the spur of the moment she decides to follow it-- wherever it is headed, violent and bloody death is sure to swiftly follow. She admires its scales, a mottled black and dark green that blends in with the forest around, and especially takes note of its fangs, ready to snap at a moment's notice. As they travel, she eventually becomes aware of another snake traveling behind at a distance-- much the same, yet a little smaller. "Perhaps a mate?" she wonders. "Or maybe just an opportunist, seeking scraps." She turns her attention back to the one she follows, for that is where the excitement is sure to strike, and it does not take long for her prediction to come true. Ahead, the outline of a cave resolves, set into the haunch of the mountain. Within, she senses life, but small. Morsels waiting to be snatched up. And nearby... "Ah! The mother returns. This will indeed be amusing." The spirit finds a prime spot to watch, observing as the snake slithers up to the cave. With great relish, she watches a large, black-furred leopard form out of the shadows in the forest and leap towards the snake with claws outstretched and fangs bared in a snarl, defending her cub. She sees the leopard bitten, but refuse to give in as she fights ferociously for her young. She glories in the battle as the two struggle, until finally both lay dead. Satisfied for the moment, the spirit begins to turn away, leaving the cubs to their fate. She pauses as the second snake comes into sight. "There won't be much to watch in a few mewling kits being devoured..." she thinks, but hesitates again. "I might as well see the rest play out." With a shrug, she returns to her perch on silent wings. She watches, aloofly at first, but with a growing respect as the tiny cub faces down the larger reptile. "This one, at least, will not go silently," she muses, and cannot help but feel a frisson as it suddenly leaps forward, avoiding the striking fangs. The cub clings and shreds at the snake, but makes little headway as it thrashes, finally throwing the cub aside. The spirit swiftly moves forward to the mouth of the cave as the combat moves within, suddenly keenly interested in how this will play out. She winces when it resumes, as the snake's fangs connect with its small form, punching holes into it, but even then it refuses to give up, just like its mother. She draws closer as the little leopard tears and bites at the snake's throat, and watches as they finally both fall down dead, the snake's larger body nearly entirely covering that of its slayer. "Such ferocity. Such strength!" the spirit croons as she circles the cub's body, until finally the mewling of the two survivors breaks her concentration. She spins, and darts at them, snapping, "Cease that!" Both of them suddenly jerk in surprise at the sound, mouths clicking shut, but only for a moment before they begin whimpering in panic instead, huddled together. Sighing to herself, the spirit shakes her head. "I can help you," she tries, but the cubs do not seem to understand her words. She drifts closer, her shadowy form touching one, letting herself feel its thoughts. Half-formed at best, and overlaid entirely with crippling fear. Concentrating, the spirit attempts to push out soothing thoughts. It is not something she has a great deal of experience with, for such comes most unnaturally to her kind, but eventually she and the cubs come to an understanding-- she is not going to eat them, and perhaps if they do as she directs, they might yet have a chance. By envisioning what she wishes them to do, and pushing that thought into their minds, she urges them to venture beyond the cave to collect what she needs. When they hesitate at the threshold, she returns to crooning soothing, comforting sounds, until finally they do as bid. Collecting twigs, leaves, and tearing off bits of brush, they return and pack them around their fallen sibling. They tear off the flesh of the snake as well, beginning to form a round, bloody cocoon. As they work, the spirit sings softly to itself, twining in and out of the growing shell. With each pass, the surface grows more solid. Darker. The two cubs work more and more frantically to bring material, until finally the spirit is gone, absorbed within a pitch-black egg that reflects no light. The two of them stop, staring at one another, and then at the egg. Then they wait. The sun sets, and rises anew. Their stomachs rumbling with hunger, they tear off meat from the remnants of the serpent, before returning to their vigil. The wait seems interminable, and every noise from without the cave causes them to jerk their heads and stare. As night falls, a sharp *crack* fills the cave. Then another, and a third. Suddenly the egg dissolves, fading away into a shadowy mist, leaving only its contents behind. The cubs blink in shock, for what emerges does not appear to be their sister. Her fur is now a pristine white broken only by dark marks, all that remains of her original colouration. The marks are patterned in the fashion of black rosettes, and are strewn across it in an inverse image of the night sky. The two cubs stare, shrinking back from this strange-looking creature who stands out so vividly within this shadowy realm. But... they sniff the air. She still smells like herself. They cautiously approach as she gets to her feet, looking around herself with a distinct impression of astonishment at being alive, but it takes only a moment before she shakes herself, stretches. Then her eyes pop open, and they are still the same brilliant blue. With chirps of astonishment, her brothers rush towards her. Their noses meet, and then they cluster together, purring softly. Behind them, the shadowy form of the spirit rises, now indistinct. She has given much of herself towards this working, but she is pleased with the result. Drifting forward, she touches the reborn leopard, and sends an impression. "Beautiful one, you have so much promise. When you are ready, seek out the Glomdoring. Seek out those within the southern woods." With that, the spirit's form begins to fade and she sinks into the ground, to sleep within these savage woods. And, perhaps, to one day emerge strong once more. Together, the cubs find a new home in the hollow of a large fallen tree. The white leopard learns to use herself as bait, drawing in those who see her only as prey, fixated upon the brightness of her fur. As they approach, her siblings attack and harry from the sides, and once so beset she enters the fray to deliver the final blows. They feed. They grow. As they reach maturity, now each strong and confident in its own strength, they each acknowledge that they need one another no more. The two brothers depart, taking different paths into the woods, seeking their own prey. Perhaps even mates, to start a family. Yet the white leopard feels a different calling, now. Her gaze turns towards the south. She gorges herself on fresh meat, sensing a long journey lies ahead, and then she stalks through the forest, avoiding attention. The woods begin to thin, but she does not stop for this curious sight. Nor does she stop for the scorching sand of the desert, swiftly traveling past. Her steps do not halt until she reaches the shore, lowering her nose to sniff at the frothy water breaking upon the beach. She raises her head, staring to the south. Somewhere out there is her purpose. This land she is leaving behind-- her entire world-- is minuscule compared to what lies ahead. Without even a single backward glance, she moves forward towards the unknown to find her destiny. - THE END - A description of each of the scenes and costumes is included for the reader. The Ocean Within the depths of the Inner Sea, an island grows by fits and starts. No other land exists within sight in any direction. Waves of a deep dark blue eternally dash themselves against the rocky shore, foaming as they break and then withdraw, only to surge anew. The only living creatures in sight are seabirds, circling far overhead. The Wyrden Isle This mighty island thrusts through the surface of the sea and seems to scrape the sky. Clouds gather around its peak. One half of the island is lush and verdant, overgrown with all manner of life. The other appears to be a barren wasteland, scorched by the sun. Skirting the edges are thinner woods, where moisture manages to make it past the mountain's shoulders. A Forest Cave Set into the mountain's base, a small cave is set at an angle and appears to be nothing more than a fold in the rock to the casual observer. Outside is a small clear space, unusual in this otherwise densely-packed jungle. The trees growing thickly nearby spread their canopy wide overhead, blocking most of the sun's light-- only the feeblest amount penetrates this far below, giving the impression of perpetual twilight even on the brightest of days. Water constantly drips from the canopy above, wrung from the clouds as they smash against the unmoving mass of the mountainside. The sound of wildlife within the woods is constant, no matter the time, and the cries of some unfortunate creature meeting its painful demise is as common as any other. Glomdoring Deep beneath the surface of a dark wood a seething mass buzzes, the intensity ever-shifting but never fading completely. Shadowy forms in the shape of varying insects churn around each other and the thick roots stretching greedily down from above like grasping, gnarled fingers. Most seem to move sluggishly, droning to one another and centering around the most powerful of their number, but the rare exception exists, shapes that dart and explore their home with more enthusiasm. A small leopard cub A small ball of fuzz, this leopard cub is stark black, blending into the dark interior of the cave. It is easiest to spot her is by her eyes, flashing a bright blue. She is a bundle of energy, often dashing about, or playfully pouncing upon her siblings with a growl that is really more of a squeak instead. Belza, a dark spirit Taking the shape of a small hawk, this spirit trails wisps of shadow behind her when she moves. She flits from one perch to another with sure beats of her wings, but they make no sound as they cut through the air. Fierce-looking talons and a jagged beak provide her with a fearsome mien.