Larksong Grotto A Million Years

As the islander writhed in the blasting heat, a wispy figure – like smoke – caught his peripheral gaze. He swore it was a mirage: a young, doe-legged woman spun of silver and charcoal meandered across the grotto. She reminded him of the ethereal Kukutux of Moonglow. Despite her beauty, she appeared soon-to-be sun sick, like himself… but perhaps she knew this terrain and where water hid.

“Ahoy, travel’r!” he called. In better conditions he would have trotted up, but even Njord could hardly muster the energy to move faster than a snail’s pace. He looked very much melt-y: folded ears and drooping posture. “Do ya know where there’s water ‘round these parts, lass?” he asked.