Kelo blinked. Kelo groaned. Kelo krnlo. As he rolled over, the frost cracked on the edge of his firs. His movement made the heavy cloak shift, and open tiny vents into the outside air. The biting cold sought a way to get inside, and to make Kelo knrlo again.
Throwing off his firs, the squat black-haired anthropod (we'll call him, for the sake of argument, a man) felt ready to face the day. At least, he told himself he was. And he had done that for the past 19 turns, every morning since he could remember. He had emulated his damo, who had woken up every morning to cook duer-rom. And he stretched, thinking of his moda, wondering if they would ever be united again.
He pulled on close-fitted pants and a chest-cover, then draped more firs over himself. His lora slept soundly the ground under the pile of firs he had just vacated. The brisk air was a little bitter, but the bed was no longer inviting. Kelo did not like things that offered comfort and invitation too long. That was not how his tribe had stayed alive.
----
Three years earlier, there had been a calamity. The entire face of the planet was about to change. What had once been the green of Slutia had turned into the white of Flama. And the white of Flama was no more. No more. White had turned to black. The darkness had come. And it thirsted for the planet.
----
A valistone stag approached, a white horn shining. The other looked to have been broken or sawed, and the obvious gap in the horn was difficult to overlook. Valistone not had a place in the hands of Kelo or his people for time uncounted. It had caused the great destruction, when the ancients had coveted the metal above all others, and had declared it, and its symbols, to be the purpose of life.
Kelo, himself, had once seen valistone inside Harmol, the forbidden mountain. Each must journey into Harmol when he became adult. The mountain was filled with long unused corridors that, if followed, went deep into the hills. Nothing prevented the entrance, and deep within, there was vast, untold quantities of valistone. With a torch, the bars shined. But left there for three days, one quickly realized that you couldn't eat or drink valistone. After just that short time, one realized why valistone was useless and not a single candidate had ever come out desiring the wicked stone.
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