She is, as she always seems to be, basking in the late afternoon sun streaming in through the glass panes of the conservatory. With one massive eye always peeked open, she drifts in and out of a peaceful meditation, fondly watching two small esk leaping, bounding, and tumbling joyously in circles around her feet. Seeing you approach, however, she sits up and nudges them along with the end of her snout.
"Hello." Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and she smooths a patch of long, carefree grass down beside her with one sweep of her paws.
"Please, join me. I am so glad to see you. What brings you here today?"
You slowly approach and settle next to the elder esk, pleasantly cooled by the shadows her fur casts into the field around you. In the dramatic light of the nearly-setting sun, the backlit streaks of grey dancing across her fur shimmer a brilliant golden hue. Turning your gaze now to her face, you settle in and ask for a story.
What story would you like to hear?
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II. A Song
III. A Confession
IV. A Memory
V. A Gift
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Can esk truly "die" ? Or do we all become rocks?
Why do we get gifts from transformations? The origin of the woodlands.
Where do esk come from? Who created esk?
Who was the first esk? Was it you? When did this happen? What have you seen in the beginning? Who do you recall creating first?
Was it the Wanderers? How do you feel about the creation of Seventh? Do they ever talk to you?
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