[center][h3]Whisper.[/h3][/center]

It was by the guidance of Zotash'e that Whisper eventually reached Flux's Well.

It had other names, of course. None of the Rukban tribes knew the name or nature of that ancient dancer, not really. There were stories. Some had not even a grain of truth in them, though they were far more believable than what had actually happened. That an older nation had once settled in these parts, and the garden hills were their burial mounds, for example. Speculation that became fact as it replaced the myth of reality.

All these stories and all these names had been passed down to Whisper by Zotash'e. They'd spoken of many things. Whisper doubted Zotash'e would remember much of it. The story of a whisper's world had been told and heard, and it was the spirit of that night, not its words, that would remain. The tune, not the verse.

A shame, maybe. Zotash'e had a flute, and they'd chosen the words together. At Whisper's request, it was one of the shaman's prayers, worked into a song.

Strange nights these were.

[center][colour=LavenderBlush][i]We wander like the birds
Birds of the hills
Wherever there's a wind.
See you?
You should follow him.
Child, you should follow him.[/i][/colour]

[colour=GhostWhite][i]We're chasing for the clouds
Clouds and the rain
We're following the wind.
See now
You'll be safe with him.
Sister, you'll be safe with him.[/i][/colour]

[colour=MintCream][i]He's lost on a wish
He's higher than skies
Listen little sister dear
Open up your eyes
See now
See him near[/i][/colour]

[colour=AliceBlue][i]If we lose our way
This is what we'll pray.
Pray it to the spirits
Of wind and rain and clay.
See you?
See the way?[/i][/colour][/center]

[center][h3]* * * * *[/h3][/center]