In this moon story they enter a roiling primordial soup--where delineations arise and dissolve into lava flows and thick mud. In the impending sense of desolation, great potential looms. They enter through a feathered opening and don (or grow?) a pair of wings--tipped and dripping with luminous paint and an urge to splash the world with color. They sense the lava oozing forth from fissures in the Earth not as a threat, but as a way back to source. At the center, the lava has cooled and the rain has poured into and compacted the ground with thick mud--out of which arises a massive, old tortoise. They climb upon its back.