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[Arahim]

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Stars and moon still decorated the hanging tapestry above, when Arahim returned from his long night's duties.

Snow squeaked and groaned below his booted feet, while mournful winds cycloned sharp blasts of frost and tiny flecks of ice all about him.

Sylvanian Hall seem'd to be a silent, cyclopean ice sculpture. Stark white grounded on stark white. It's pristine marble catching the rapidly dimming moonlight, giving it a faint pearl luminesence. All around him, snow sparkled like a secret treasure trove. A vast field of untouched diamonds, cold and pure.

Seeking what little shelter there was to be had on the front porch, Arahim awaited the first rays of the new day as was his custom.

Stars winked out. One by one. Unable to compete with the insistent procession of Morning's fiery light. Here, diffused by clouds and soft. There, unadulterated and raucous in it's blaze.

Dawn sent new light spilling down the sides of the craggy mountains which hemmed in Sylvanian Hall, and lent crazy shadows to anything it its way.

With a smile on his face, and the wind still singing in his ears, Arahim walked up the flight of stairs, and inside.

Sleep was not far off.