The wind of Nata blew gently, passing over the petals of the withered purple lily, blowing Chaska’s long hair, and also blowing her quiet growth melody. Her journey was soft and firm, like a stream around a stone, light but powerful.

The fragments, fragments and crystals of the free turquoise, like the spring water flowing slowly in the mountains, nourished every inch of her growing skin. The animal teeth were the rounded stones by the stream, which were gradually carved by the years and became her silent armor.

The talent book of “Dispute” was gently opened, like a white paper floating in the wind, teaching her skills and also teaching her to look at the world with her heart. The silk feathers were as soft as the dreams in her heart, gently wrapping her hopes.

“The red feathers of the starry sky vulture” are a warm red glow, hanging at the end of the wind. The blur of the divine secret smoke, the flickering of the refraction germ, the low hum of the whistle, everything accompanied her gently.

Every breakthrough is like a stream flowing into a river. Mora is the flowing sand, silently supporting her growth. The deep and entangled gaze and the withered leaves are the scenery around her, gentle and profound.

Chaska’s steps are light and resilient. Her breath is in the wind and her dreams are hidden in the clouds. She is like a breeze, passing through the valley of Nata, leaving silent traces.