“Caves…” you mimic softly and curiously, not quite loud enough to penetrate the hum of Ze-ro’s fanciful story.

You live in a cave - with your mother and your father – so it is not long before your imagination ignites the idea with vivid illustration. The cave you know is lined with pure, glistening gold, and it is nestled into the very heart of the cradling mountain range. Every single morning the orange sun climbs out of its leafy bed somewhere along the top of the cliffs (though determined, you are yet to find her roost), and before anywhere else, she fills your parent’s love-nest with warm light more radiant and beautiful than even the fire tangled through the long mane of your mother. You are an early riser, keen to fall into the promise of another day, but you wait faithfully each day for this marvel to occur. As dawn’s light pools in your mind, a fond smile crosses your lips.

Though she flinches often in the lightest cycle of her sleep, Bird’s expanding dreamland seems to grow ever more peaceful.

You know nothing of the wretchedness of life without a home; nor do you startle at the mention of monsters. Though night’s shadow is unnerving and moving water stirs your nerves to sing, there is nothing truly in this world that strikes honest fear through your heart. It is a blissfully unaware existence you hold in this world – though, with every hour passing, new, strange heaviness settles through your young soul. The bloodlust behind you and the haunting waver of your mother’s voice linger quietly, broodingly in the deepest recesses of your mind. You are yet to find their meaning, the anguish represented and though quite startled you had been, distraction comes far easier than it ought. You sink so easily beneath the confident murmur of your best friend’s voice.

He speaks of the Sun God and your wilting, white lashes flutter vaguely. The name is one you have heard before. Your mother, once upon a time, had served as that God’s Diviner - he was the reason she wore fire in her hair. Many stories has she shared with you about the proud, fiery lord of the baked southern land, and your heart beats a little faster as his bright, towering figure materializes, before your closing eyes. You pretend he is almost as dazzling as she who fills each day with life (at night, there is silence, stillness and sleep); that beams like those which fall at midday through the lush canopy of your homeland, spill around Him instead of the murky shadows that seem always to pool about your own hooves. Your mother spoke of a flaming horse, a giant who had both wings and two horns also, that spiral out from his head away into the sky - he is wonderfully mysterious, so different to smiling Gram’pa Earth.

Exhaustion is catching up with you quickly now, and though you can remember being told a story quite similar to Ze-ro’s - dancing dragons and two sand ‘tanas - the soft, sing song of your best friend’s words lull you closer to sleep. You feel safe beneath his wing, with the warmth of his big body and Bird’s little body radiating through you, and you wonder as he tightens his hug around you, if this night without your mother is really so awful. You are neither scared, nor lonely now and your nostrils flutter gently as he nuzzles. “K Ze-ro,” you mumble through another gaping yawn. “…don’t let the…. nest mites…” You can resist the pull of dreams no longer. You fall silent and your lean neck relaxes as you sail away at last to a land of blazing gods and twisting tunnels.

When morning breaks, you will wake confused and hungry. Your immature mind has not yet the capacity to reason properly, and you and Bird will stray from the cradling roots where your best friend kept you safe all night. You will leave for him one small, snow-white feather from your wing - a promise, a reminder, because you won’t want to stray too far without him.