Old woman rises from her slumber
Earlier than the sun
Sleep; an infrequent visitor in her world
She feels the burden of her world, heavy in her bones
Gently brushing a strand of silvery gray out of her eyes
She labors to unsteady feet
Slowly she makes her way to her window
To watch the moon shimmer upon the lake
She sees Them gently fluttering, awaiting the sunrise
Calling to her, beckoning her to join them
She pulls her robe tight about her, making her way outside along the shore
They are waiting for her there: The Otherkin
