The tall grasses within were yellow, bending in the gentle current of a breeze she had never once felt upon her flesh. The rustling sound of movement was relaxing, almost hypnotic, like the tide upon a sandy shore as the grasses rustled and swayed. Small areas had been flattened, creating soft cushioned ground on which to sit, or lie, as those inside awaited the passing of a threat or took time to rest and gather energy.
Darrienia was a strange world. It was made of energy and the truth of its real image was known by few. Even Elly saw the land as solid, sculpted by the influence of the dreamers and understood solely by those glimpsing it. Where Elly saw the bending grasses forming an island within a mystical moat of streaming light, someone else may interpret the energy as something comp
