The main difference I have always been able to tell between tallsun and orangemoon in the desert is the temperature of the evenings. You see, the day remains more or less the same - perhaps a bit cooler, but certainly as sunny and as dusty as the days before. But the nights grow cold, with a certain dry, bitter chill brought out with the moon. I would worry for the health of my daughter, but she is growing into a lovely, strong young warrior, just as able as the name we - or, shall I say, I - gave her. I am proud of her, though she has grown distant. I have tried to give her space in order to avoid a situation like that of my older daughter, Skysong, whom I haven't seen in months. I doubt Zenobia even knows she exists.

I must admit, I have been a terrible mother. The most I can say is that I have come to terms with that fact now. The best I can offer the world is a promise for no more children - I have visited Onni and seen to that.

The best thing about one's children growing older is that they no longer require direct supervision, a process that I wish I had understood as my eldest grew and blossomed before me. Still, I can keep myself from making the same mistakes twice, if nothing else, and so I allow Zenobia the run of the Throat as I work diligently along the border. Despite the cooling air as evening falls around me and a large, full moon makes its appearance on the horizon, I feel the damp chill of sweat along my spine. Though my work is comprised of using magic and many assume that it is not necessarily hard labor, it takes its toll. All magic comes with a price, as I have learned several times over.

I am quite proud of the progress I have made thus far, and without a partner, at that. It would seem that our crafting positions are either unpopular or unlucky; I have yet to decide which. Still, I enjoy my work, and I don't mind the solitude, having spent much of my life as a loner. It was only after meeting Rowan that I had decided to find a place to call home at all, and now she was gone. I hadn't given myself the time to mourn her, fearing that I would feel a sadness so deep and so heavy that I would never recover, and so I threw myself headlong into my work. I am pleased to say that when I fly the length of the wall, it has stretched approximately halfway along our border, a far cry longer than it was when I had started working on it.

I reach for another sheet of metal with my magic and come up empty. I usually beat them out each night before I take a rest, but I feel invigorated. Something about the chill in the air has my spirits up, so instead of putting it off until morning, I decide to gather while it is cool.

Time to go metal hunting.

"talk talk talk"
@[name]

Live... I want to live on fire
Die... I want to burn out brighter
Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight