Lisk Lies Dreaming....

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[Literally brambles]

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[A bowl of succulent-looking berries.]

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Yes.

Yes, this is a fertile land, and we will thrive.

We will rule over all this land, and we will call it...

This Land.

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There. At the bottom of the pool, darkened by night, is a little glimmer. Something hides in the mud, nestled tightly, beckoning to the inquisitive mind.

One such soul stops to gaze at the dim light. Hooves slide against wet mud, and weeds drape themselves on the new arrival, as the newcomer examines the little glint. Is it a crab, a fish, trying to hide a marvellous glow in hopes of living another day? Or the soul of a firefly, trapped deep below the water's surface instead of flying into the sky? Maybe, just maybe, it is the egg of some great beast of legend, ready to hatch, but only when the one who is destined to find it, does so? One cannot know from such a distance.

Eventually, the need to know overwhelms. Slender, strong legs kick to reach below the water, to get lower below the surface to explore the little glimmer. Eyes come closer to the tantalizing enigma on the bottom of the pool. The light grows ever-stronger, weakening as the pull of lung's air to rejoin its brethren brings the body back up, further away from the prize, until the head crests the pond's surface, and angry lungs breathe in more of the treacherous stuff. But the mystery lies below. The stubborn one tries again, and again, to no avail. The third, or dozenth, or hundredth time, an underwater wail lets a scream of bubbles loose, letting the body get low enough to stand on the pond's silty floor. The figure relaxes.

Eyes fog with lack of focus, the lack of air is a strain on the body. Gaze settles on the thing, nose tilting one way, then another, as a confused mind tries to make sense of the strange lights. The glow fades and grows, fades and grows, through water as clear as air, as comprehension begins to dawn on an air-starved mind...

...the strange little glimmer is naught but a reflection.

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