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.
However, I do not have your warmth with me as before to endure the sting of the night. In my favor, Orolva took pity on us, our offspring and I, and led me to an old Daerwood tree.
The sight of it engulfed me with rage my love. My fire, my light, my only one, I saw you in the blackened trunk and in the blood-red of the leaves.
It was foolish of me, but I had to try. So I went to you. I cradled the children and sang the songs of love and light under the shade of your leaves. I beckoned you my love, my fire, to return to us, but you stood there inanimate.
Why my love, why my fire? Why won’t you come back to me or let me come to you?
Amidst my tears Orolva reminds me of the tongue of the trees. Of course, how could I have forgotten the ancient song that herds the daertrees to the water’s edge?
I sang it my love, I sang it for you and you heard me. My fire, my light and life, you told me that the tree, this tree that Orolva has shown us is strong and sturdy. You assured me that it was enough to withstand the winds and storms of Orvilya.
Therefore I spoke to the Daertree, whispered the plea in simple Vilish words and the tree heeded my request. It hollowed out enough room for all of us to huddle together to keep warm at night.
My love, the tree opens at my beckoning in the dawn of each day and shuts us in every night to shield us from the elements. I also asked the leaves to aid me and they accepted.
They sewed themselves together to cloak us. Their sacrifice guards us from the bitter cold of night and the harsh glare of Oraran by day. You would love the coverings my fire, my love. They are as red as the fire of our love.
My anger and grief is unabated oh dear one. I can never and will never relinquish my love for you. I see you in the trees, feel you in the earth beneath me. Yet I cannot raise you from it as I did before. Why Adar, tell me why?
I am grateful for Orolva’s assistance at your beckoning, but Adar I detest these lands! They are naught but portraits of death and blood. My life is worth nothing without the light of my light.
Yet for our children, I linger still. I shall tend them for us my fire, my love. I shall keep them safe from harm to my undying days my beautiful one, my only one; my Yeldenore.