Rivers laced the ground.  Snow drifts peaking from the grasp of weathered stone.  The air heavy with moisture, and warm with the rich veins of springtime.

In this land where winter never ended it was a rare sight.  A crack in the armor for all that dwelled there.

Metal veins and fused stone, cobalt crystals and the murmur of dripping water.

The cavity loomed large underfoot, bearing the uncertainty about its challenger.

Wrapping a blue scarf around his neck, the beholder turned to regard the skies.  The vapor trail marked where the sky would roar, as the speck grew nearer.

And yet the molten snow field was silent, resurrecting it’s fabled tranquility.

Should that cavern prove one of a kind?  The behold certainly believed.

Rising to grasp at roots, the observer watched as a blue cloud shimmered across the sky.  Folding toward the center, where lightning arced and mist vented.

A hum began.  The sound of crickets, of stirring animals, of a gentle breeze.  A chorus implored in the observers throat.  Sharp points came of their ears and breath and melt converged.

The murmur played crescendo to that of a great waterfall, yet the crevice seemed to flood with energy.

A pale yellow glow rose from the forest.  The scent of sweet berries, the musk of hearty bears, the crisp and vibrant chill of snowfall.

Where overhead an ocean seemed angry.

Columns fell.  Shafts of cobalt that sharpened.  Vortexes turned inside out.  Rain blended together, threads that tailored the sky as the clouds fell, boiled, and condensed.

They fell hard, but as they neared they were slowed.  The resonance of the forest holding it back.  A great concord.  A route toward a great beacon.

Shadows emerged.  Squirrels, foxes.  Cub, flocks.  A ballad of anima, of spirits.  Of habitation before the storm.

Should it be unique?  A homage to this assailant?

Indeed, to darken the skies was formidable, but in the end it was one persons ability.  Alone and rebellious, with no one to lend an ear, to see or hear them fight.

The scarf fluttered in an updraft, surrounded by voices, a familiar chorus and a presence that was more than welcome.

A tear burst forth, joining the deluge into the ravine.  What was a drop in the ocean, a testament to its grandeur.

They leapt on a surge of compassion, a measure of regard.

What loomed flinched back warily, salvaging their strength and drawing it back for a counter.

Rein and courage faced off.  An axe of flowing water to a shroud of harmonized voices.

What would split the other would melt in the exchange, and what would unify in great number would face division in another light.

The two grappled and pulled, casting streams of multicolored light over the land.

They split and diverged, multiplied and vanished, thundered and shook in only a sense of the word.

But one thing was certain, the sun would shine brighter, and the cut of the heavens would be remembered.