Solaris rose in the East, bathing the land in its light. The preyed upon stirred for a new day, the predators rested, waiting for a new night. The coyote had disappeared, and Atalanta awoke once more. She knew that if night befell again before she was in the haven of the Others, her chances of seeing the sun rise again would be very slim.

But where to go? she thought, There is no path, no signal, no guide.

A light breeze blew behind her back, from the peaks of mountains came a chat: Alliyama kakulita charinaya ichigori. And so, Atalanta walked, guided by the wind.

The sun shone straight down upon Atalanta, for it was noon. In the horizon, a thunderstorm brewed. Atalanta did not wish to go near, but the wind told her she had no choice.

Afternoon came. The originally flat horizon had disappeared, unveiling a towering mountain before her. As a child, she had heard tales of many a brave knight and magician who had entered, never to return. Atalanta cringed at the thought of walking into the forbidden mountain, but still the wind blew.

Solaris set in the West; its warm rays of light flickered away. The shadows of darkness awoke, dancing in anticipation. And Atalanta had reached the base of the mountain. The wind blew, insistently, and Atalanta pulled her cloak closely about her. There was no light, for the moon had disappeared.

She did not wish to cross, but the wind blew, the Gods had spoken, Gods whose breaths guided her into the mouth of darkness. Illumos she cried, concentrating all her energy on the command, but no light came forth.

The coyote followed closely, and the darkness became almost tangible.

Atalanta deeply regretted not getting up earlier.