I know not how I survived, but I did.
I know not how I escaped nor how I found peace when all around was war…
…but I know I did.
The treeherders who found me sing to me, tend my wounds, sooth my hurts.
They know me, know my sorrow…
…know that I am last of my tribe.
I would weep, but then they tell me of other tribes.
They tell me of worlds that might be, songs that could be…
…I smile as they sing and join in despite myself.
The mûmakil shall survive.
I swear it.