Owls and nightingales gathered around Ërna, singing soothing songs as she slept restlessly through the night. They were, of course, supposed to keep watch for strangers like her—but they liked her, and so chose to watch over her as guardians instead. They knew Ërna’s dream well, for they remember, without fully realizing, the Goddess Who Sleeps and sing for Her, as well.

Returning from that realm of cold darkness, Ërna saw the waking woods around her with a renewed sense of warmth. Though an icy pang of loneliness lingered in her heart, she once more appreciated the life flourishing around her. Dawn had come again, and she was grateful.

Sitting up among the flowers, Ërna stretched and paused to appreciate just how fortunate she had been. To fall asleep in the middle of a meadow, completely exposed and defenseless in the heart of a hostile land, and still survive to see the break of day? It was nothing short of a miracle. She put her hands together in prayer, thanking Gylthra for protection; for who else but the Goddess of Guidance—Fate Herself—could protect her so?

She couldn’t remember her dream.

Braiding her hair, Ërna considered her next steps. Should she continue running? If so, where should she go? Pelren was a prison, while Gälenor was a grave awaiting. Perhaps she could escape beyond the Eldgár? If she could just pass over those treacherous mountains…perhaps then she could be free.

Her people, the Eldásrí, knew little about that land. Only a few stories had made their way back over the Eldgár, but they belonged to the Luálrí and Ëolrí. Would she really be welcomed there, then? How far must a person run before they can be themselves? Does such a journey ever end? What if there was nowhere in this world that she belonged?

She shook her head. Such thoughts weren’t helpful. Remembering the advice of her mother, she returned her mind to the present with her breathing, bringing the winds of the world back into herself before sending them off with the gift of her warmth. The Fabric of the Universe, ethýr, flows through all things, woven together into one great tapestry. Though she is but a single thread, she is nevertheless a part of that greater whole—and therefore belongs.

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“Alright,” she proclaimed, clenching her fists with renewed determination.

If running is too much trouble, then I’ll just stay here. It’s probably not the smartest idea, but…

She looked around, watching the luamýr dance around her innocently.

I’ll start small. If I can just befriend the land-spirits dwelling here, then perhaps I’ll be able to convince the scary wolf-lady, who’s eyes match these flowers, that I’m not so bad.

She softly clapped for herself, feeling encouraged by her own internal pep talk.

Yes, and perhaps I’ll even be able to make a potion! I just need my—

Looking around, she…couldn’t find her satchel.

“Ah…”

That’s right…I left it behind.

Her shoulders slumped.

Okay, okay. It’s okay. Not a problem.

She shook her head, slapping her cheeks.

Start small. If I can just connect with the ëolfëár, I can make potions here later. Probably.

She reached out to a flower in front of her, caressing it with warmth and love.

“Dear spirit of Ëolna, please hear my prayer.”

A small drop of golden dew appeared on a single petal, peeking at Ërna with curiosity. Despite her assumption, the spirit she sought was not the flower itself, but rather something dwelling inside of it. The flower was merely the shape it had given itself, a gift of love for Ëolna—and, in this case, for Lua as well. To take that gift for another and reshape it for a different purpose…that was what Ërna was asking for.

The ëolfëa therefore eyed her with suspicion. It looked beyond her shape, seeking answers from the seed within her complicated form. After all, it didn’t care what she looked like, nor would it bother to learn a language often used to weave lies out of wind. It only cared about the fëa inside of her, for the soul seldom lies.

Most ëolfëár don’t pay any heed to the Eldásrí, whose inner seeds have grown further and further from Ëolna and Her garden in recent years. This has been true of Ërna as well, though not by her choice. Yet, for the first time, this ëolfëadared to look beyond her birth and peer into her pink-hued soul. But before they could connect—

—another soul interrupted their exchange.

“So this is where you ended up.”