There was a Song woven by the mountains, carried heavily but beautifully by a voice old and sad. There was a traveler, knowing, powerful, who, enchanted, followed this soft calling through valley and peak, past the other songs of trees and wind and the earth, leaving behind pawsteps in snow packed with mourning.

It was spring. Dark skies rose above the peaks, turning, billowing, cold. And yet, as she crested the hill,there on the ridge stood the Singer. And now she could listen to her Song.

It wasn't sweet, nor beautiful when truly heard. But it was sad. And it drew forth not only the living from the surface, but also the Spirits from the earth. These souls, lost, now found, swirled about in archs and spires. The Song rose, powerfully, and soon the Traveler also brought her call to the music, until the very air cracked and sparked with the presence of spirits.

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Trade with *WhipStitch-WolfThing

Spent three months learning to fractal in Apophysis so I could make this.

75% pleased with the result.

Photoshop CS and Apophysis- late 2007/early 2008

Nahawen ©
Snow, prose and art © S. Morrissey