29/03/2026
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ฅ๐
Dust, grey and a bore, there was naught in this world but bits of ones and ohโs. Stale, lost, and all so dull, the land was no more than a mundane lure of codes stuck in recurring forโs. The wolves howl to moons obscured by clouds too strong, and their fur all occur in colors of black and greyish cull. Alas, what else is to be borne of lands bereft of anomalous bugs, and inspiring ventures? Where all howls call for the same one err, and the airโs too murk for dreams to burst? Mmmm mhmmm, well, dear reader, a miraculous star is yet to emerge.
๐๐๐ฆ๐๐ข๐โ๐ฌ ๐๐ข๐ซ๐ญ๐ก
At dusk โ when the sky burns low and the light thins into ash, Lambie was born. Their fur held nothing of the stoneโs grey, nor the quiet browns worn thin by the councilโs pack. It carried instead the last breath of the sun โ aureate strands fading at the edges, orange dimmed to ember, as if light had lingered too long and had forgotten to leave.
Against the solid ground, it did not conform. It hovered misplaced. They turned west, the pack lifted their muzzle towards the dying light, and a thread of silver sound tore from them, raw and high, chasing a sun that would not pause nor answer their plea; it was not reverence, only a strange recognition that this light did not belong to them.
That it burned too bright to stay, and while the moon would have listened; folding each cry into shadowed echoes. The sun passed on, leaving the howl dangling in the thin air, unanswered, trembling at the edges of day and night. Where the other of its kin vanished as night asked them to, Lambie lingered; half-lit, half-denied.
Deliverance, their coming has broken the perfect code of the den. Indifference, curiosity turned sour as the wolves realized by then. This meek frail pup before them, was borne of fur reminiscent of the sun they scornโthat which has always left them forlorn, alone to the moonโs silent tune. Yet in reply to their disfigured stares, Lambie flashed one innocent smile and a cute little wurf! To the wolves who had known only shadows and grey, Lambie was too bright and thus was shunned as they did the sun.
The pup moved through the thinning light as if it belonged to him alone, and left alone he was indeed. Its fur glinted with gold and muted orange, catching the edges of the world that commemorates the day. Every scent, every whisper of wind, drew attention, and curiosity lifted its puny muzzle higher, stretching the sense to the edge of what the terra firma could offer. Boldness cascades with each step โ deliberate and unhesitant, yet measured, aware of the fleeting hour before the shadow claimed all.
Where others would wait for the moon to rise and guide them, this young one leaned into the resting sun, tracing its warmth across stone and leaf, pressing life into the spaces it touched. It carried warmth in its presence, a spark of day threaded into fur and bone, and in the twitch of ears, the wag of tail, even the soft brush of paws on the earth soft as the first light on dew, quick flashes of aureate hues danced with every movement. Like heavens set on earth, Lambie brought forth warmth and light upon this world.
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