To where all bodies of erthe crawl, for rest at the great spine’s dire grave. Arriving at the shores of their death, each beast must return to kiss, most sweetly, and join again with the bones that bore the beat of their Eldra.
Once caught firm in the wide arms of the first forests, such creatures are swallowed utterly by thick fog. The breath of five giants who once hauled the spine to barrow from ruin, lingers still. Trapped beneath branch and bole.
Tis in which all sense is stolen, all feet fall blind and with worry, where none know the way to their kiss. On middan of gray some feet do move faster than others. Those, small and slow, are here crushed under heel and toe.