In the depths of my grief, I struggle to find shelter for our children my love, to keep them warm as they slumber. My thoughts are filled with rage and bitterness, yet the cano have no mercy for my travails.
It is the time when Orvilya roars with a tempest to move the waves of Orear. Orvilya’s winds carry the scents of the beasts throughout Daer’eryn, as usual, to pollinate the flowers and prompt the beasts to throng the lands. It was as I remember our best season.
Continue reading “The Song of the Daerwood”