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The Purging of the Great Thorns

The sun was not merely a ball of burning gas to the folk of the Sandleford Warren; it was Frith, the Great Eye, the golden source of all life and the witness to every twitch of a whisker. But on this day, the air felt heavy, tasting of ozone and the cold, sharp scent of worked iron. Fiver, the small, twitching seer of the rabbits, sat atop the Honeycomb, his ears flat against his back. "It’s coming, Hazel", he whispered, his voice trembling like a leaf in a gale. "A great white light. Not the light of Frith that warms the fur, but a light that eats the world. Man has grown too clever. He has stolen the fire from the center of the earth and pointed it at the sky". Hazel looked toward the horizon. He couldn’t see the, "Great Thorns"—the long, silver cylinders Man had hidden in the ground—but he felt the vibration in his paws. The world of men was screaming. They had built machines that could turn the grass to ash and the rivers to steam. They were ready ...
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Bare Yarnie and Her Friend

Bare Yarnie, the girl with sun-kissed blonde hair and a penchant for getting naked with yarn, was lounging in her bedroom surrounded by skeins and needles. Her friend, a fellow yarn enthusiast, had just made a joke about "sado-yarnicism" which had them both laughing uproariously.





Despite their shared twisted sense of humour, they were both gentle souls, drawn to the softness and warmth of yarn. They reveled in the act of creating something beautiful and functional out of mere strands of wool.


Garden Yarnie

As she bites off a piece of yarn to tie it off, the girl tastes the faint hint of wool and dust in her mouth.

As a joke, Bare Yarnie's friend hands her a ball of yarn to taste, and it surprisingly tastes like sugary cotton candy.

The girl's lips are stained with the flavours of different dyes used on the yarn. There is a faint taste of sweat and salt from her body, as she uses her teeth to cut and manipulate the yarn.




As they continued to giggle and unwind in the cozy room, Bare Yarnie's friend couldn't help but remark, "We may be a little strange, but we're lightsy at heart."

Bare Yarnie smiled, nodding in agreement. Yes, they were unconventional, but they were happy and at peace in their own unique way. And as she leaned back against a pile of soft blankets, Bare Yarnie couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.



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