[Dream]
[Petalwing doesn't dream normally, since she does not need sleep. Now she dreams of the palace. The high things that she has served for time out of memory are there, changing their forms and likeness to match the dreams and imaginations of the big-things from the world of the two moons. They are elves now. They plan to make the ship a glorious palace, and land it for the big-things to see.
But something was wrong. She saw the high-things become agitated and the home-place spun out of control. Finally landing, not in a city, but in a marsh. The big-things that came to the gates were not those they had intended to meet, but hulking half-bestial things, they looked more like dig-digs. The time was wrong, one said.
Still, the high-things offered their hands, and then they were cut down. As the dream progresses, Petalwing flies about in confusion, trying to stay with the high-things, even as they are pursued into the woodlands, abandoning their home. Blood washes the shining stones, as fragile flesh is brutalized by clubs of wood and bone. The reason for coming to this world is lost with the many who are killed, and remained locked in the frantic hearts of those that fled; never to return.]
But something was wrong. She saw the high-things become agitated and the home-place spun out of control. Finally landing, not in a city, but in a marsh. The big-things that came to the gates were not those they had intended to meet, but hulking half-bestial things, they looked more like dig-digs. The time was wrong, one said.
Still, the high-things offered their hands, and then they were cut down. As the dream progresses, Petalwing flies about in confusion, trying to stay with the high-things, even as they are pursued into the woodlands, abandoning their home. Blood washes the shining stones, as fragile flesh is brutalized by clubs of wood and bone. The reason for coming to this world is lost with the many who are killed, and remained locked in the frantic hearts of those that fled; never to return.]