Light
Copper
Drifting, falling,
Still
breathing.
The color emerald
Fading
Lightening its twisted edge
Figure 
Bowing low
The earthly stars
Counts
In their ancient tongue
The era of return
And the light stood still.

    New year in Australia is very hot. There is the sunshine, the heat, the beach, and the cat. That cat that stands beside the windowsill every morning, and walks along the red-brick walls. With elegance she would swing her grey-white hair in the breeze and sit in front of my canvas, blocking my view of the trees. With the window glass between us, we communicate in our safest distance. 
    "How are you today?" I'd say.
    If I go near, she would walk away. 
    I would peek at her behind my canvas and watch her clean her fair hair in the sunlit day. With a swing of her tail she would start talking about the lives on her way. One day it is a falling gentle leaf, and the other day it is a bird bathing in a fountain. And then there was a day when she walked near, her belly swollen. I ponder upon her joy and sorrow being a cat. And then one day, the day before new Year's Eve, I sat and waited, but she did not appear. for some days I had waited, but she had never appeared again. it was the third season in Australia. And the winter was very warm. And the following season I left, never again returned. 
    I see her in my mind now, just now, in the New Year eves here sunshine is no longer to be seen, the cat's blue eyes in my mind. 
    "how are you today?" She never replied.

Antagonist: Douglas 
A giant northern beaver that likes to drink— 
He is a great story teller and tell stories wherever he goes, but he is also never satisfied and drain everything wherever he goes. 
Hates gin.

It is a cool autumn evening.
Douglas went into the town, weary and sad from all the long battles in the morning.
The doors are all closed and there were no one that he could talk to.
He went into a newly opened bar.
Went in.
Took a few drinks.
He noticed the sweetness of the ale.
And there was something inside.
Something else.
He looked up from the cup and tried to regain his senses. 
It wasn't long until he realized that something was wrong.
He was a warrior of course.
Cunning and adventurous.
But here in his hometown, where he had left his belongings nothing could have had tried to harmed him.
Why aren’t there any people? 
They have hidden themselves away from him, because he was known as a villain, not a hero, in their songs after the third war of the gods. 
They said that he is double-faced; he is the sly god, the god who had betrayed their beloved all-father. 
And then he realized why the ale tasted differently.
Once they would have had drank and sang with him in their drinks. 
Now, 
Now he noticed the net beneath his feet.
It was the gods. 
As a dart he lept for the door, while the door was nowhere to be found--
It is an allusion.
He heard the gods jeered and laughed on top of him, while he was trapped in this mortal pub.
He rose.
They got him.
They looked at him, while he examined their expression.
And he started to burn.