Silouate's Bronze Cowbell

"On the horizon, a flock moves Led by Silouate, Minotoror Running among his fellows Spreading his hot misty breath They have a whole world to cross Pausing briefly, only rarely Before their journey resumes To complete their task in time Beyond the horizon goes the flock Neither slowed nor stopped by naught He charges straight across the fields And on his way sows seeds of spring At long last, the fog will disperse The sound of hooves will fade away 'Till naught but echoes do remain Until the next month has its day." — "Aperirel's Race", Amaknian poem