the calling - elfquest

Timmain, Shape-Shifter, your people are exiles. Wandering aimless, your people are lost. Hated and hunted, with fear their companion, Chilled by the windstorm and pierced by the frost. Timmain, Self-Shaper, your people are hungry. Far from their homeland, they founder unfed. Here in the new land their magics work twisted, As often to conjure up stones as their bread. Timmain, Shape-Changer, your people are dying. You cannot harden your heart to their cry. See how the snow and t