Update from the deep dark caves of rock.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....quiet a sec....can you hear those fairies emptying sachels of tiny, toiney, teeny, weeny silver pins? They're about 100 miles away from the gates of snow forest. The waterfalls still fall.......the waters still run deep and they still flow outwards, leading us all to the starlit deep black oceans of thy soul. He's still there..... The volcano is still there........and he's humming......humming, scratching his brain, itching his brain, pulling his eye lids downwards, stretching to his lips, grinning with his swinging, stainless steel tick tock clocks for ear rings........ Its a blustery night in our land. The wind blows the twigs inline with the moon reducing its visibility from 100% to 99% in bursts........The logs on the fire are making snapping noises as the fire's breath breaks their bones. The mirror wabbles and taps against the wooden walls.........the desk creaks and on it are several previously used silver goblets scattered across its severed surface. The smell of vinegar and rosemary scented paper is in the air and the paper is scattered all over the desk...ink...blobs of ink and writings...are just some of the things inside this shack in our land....built into the entrance mouth of the catacombs....high in the mountains. There's a letter in the mailbox outside...sealed with red wax......addressed to you.....we hope the post horse makes it through this blustery night....we think he will be fine though...he is heavily armoured.