Planet
Frimalt
The world of the eternal wind: a storm that never stops, rocks polished like blades, and a fauna that lives its whole life in flight.
On Frimalt, the wind never drops. It has blown the same way for millions of years, at a speed that would flatten an entire forest. And so there is no forest on Frimalt — only rock and moving air.
The blade rocks
The wind has polished the stone so long that only blades remain: long thin ridges, all facing the same way, standing in their thousands like the pages of an open book. To walk on Frimalt is to cross a forest of stone knives, holding on to them so as not to be blown away.
Those that never land
The animals of Frimalt are born in the air and die in the air. The valkhan, a great glider with rigid wings, sleeps on the wing and circles the planet in a month. The skirs, tiny, cling to its back by the hundred and spend their whole lives there. To land, on Frimalt, is already to be dead.