To wake.

There are lessons to be learned from some cults of ages passed. Some whose time has come or will one day, or had been before the age of far flung legend was young or in a time one day to be.

Spirals once more.

There is never the straight line which all would like to see.

A finite offering.

Silence on the beast, it grins and watches what comes forth. Unknowing and knowing blended in a mob of mixed intentions.

The rings.

From deep in memory lost long before the dream of life had sprung, so those mists were skies of clear and ever present blue.

The wilds [archive].

The wild men of the woods are always looked down upon and left in the great nowhere of deep forests far from the lives of villagers. And even further from city dwellers. They are the criminals cast out and banished from communal life. Effectively sentenced to death in these parts of the world. The forest is not an easy place to live alone at the best of times, let alone the harsher seasons.