They waved while caught on threads, attached thinly to their host. A thousand shades of green. Some gazed upon the ground below, watching and waiting for the fall. Each unique despite the multitude of siblings that moved and swayed with the air and with the beating song.

Speech was impossible and what they ate was absorbed over each moment of life. They grew and they waited. Connected. They waited for freedom, knowing the difference between the here and now and the joy to come.

When the time was right, when the Foille were released from their bindings by a whisper strong, they quietly made their way down toward the solid dark line that forever snaked the landscape. Each waited. Each growing old while they clung to the wet, dark line. Their master stood bare. Spindly arms clung to a few Foille, unsure and unwilling to follow to the line.

When the large beast came, the Foille readied themselves. Four dark and thunderous limbs clung to the line as it carried a body of colour with eyes that shone and cut through the bleakness of darkness and rain.

The beast lifted them as it briefly towered above and the Foille felt elated. Each one flung into the air, spiralling and dancing, their movements free. They guided themselves back to the long dark line ready for the next beast. This was their joyful life carried upon the briefest of moments. Awakened by the moments of freedom.