Rohan has been wasting away for a long time and a forever day in the desert of no-tree. Beneath his tree of thought he has tried to collect himself together into something substantial that he can take hold of. So far he has nothing to give him any indication of his existence. His thought tree is the last existing one of its kind in this place, due to his personal void which has swallowed the rest - or has simply floated them away somewhere, dispersing them into emptiness.
The last tree of thought has protected Rohan from the strong sun that would blind him from vision, shrivel his skin from his soul and feed his remains to the desperate soil. A cold and silent sun that would call his spirit into its soft light with the brilliant and promising wooing of a peaceful and final death. Rohan hides his eyes beneath the branches. The sun has been hanging in the sky for too long. The day has lasted forever.
The forever day has called Rohan out into the vastness. But Rohan can't seem to make the energy required to leave the tree. The emptiness of his own created world of no-tree has sucked the life from him. It is the only thought tree that he chooses to stay beneath that shelters him from the sun - that shields him from the eternal vastness of sky. Rohan remains strangely fertile in thew huge world space he has created for himself. He is the final product of his own emptiness.
During the lateness of the forever day Rohan has caught sound of a new type beyond the pop and split of cooling boulders, beyond the crooked cry of the thirsty crow. Rohan has caused a different noise that has caused his flesh to creep. A sound so subtle and fearful that, had the day not been so windless, he might have let it slip beyond his consciousness without understanding.
His ears are tingling with vibration. He is hot beneath the tree and his remaining clothes are crusty with drought. The serpent which has created his thought tree has long since moved into another place of dreaming. Rohan remains alone and responsible for his own fate. Rohan remains truly alone listening to the small scratching crackling shuffling noise in the near physical distance.
There is no more room to escape out here except to within himself. The howler seems to penetrate his mask of emptiness, finally finding her own way back into his mind, flint sharp and with claws for digging. She would surely send him mad if she had touched that sacred part of his being. Rohan will not be touched. He has placed himself within himself and is too far away from anywhere to be touched.
A forever day afternoon is dusking. Air snakes alive in swimming currents of dry-storm and static electricity. A dry-storm is approaching from the east, from the direction of the crackle and hiss. Has it come from the sea to unnaturally this far inland? Howler is slashing her way into his void with the forces of spilt and rupture like an egg.
Rohan is fearful for his life, his land, his wasted world. He will surely have the strength of the cool winds of change to ride this storm into the night. He stands beneath the lightning of the sky. Howler has now penetrated the void and is in a sense everywhere. Rohan feels the streaming darkness of her tentacle hair as it wavers across the horizon.
