He sleeps standing, crest brushing the lowest boughs of a pine he had found to hide him from the elements that had approached in the evening. He dreams of weightlessness, of gaseousness becoming flesh, of a war that erupted between three sibling stars over rulership of their system. He dreams of falling in love with mortals over the eons, of watching the rise and elimination of intelligent life, of listening to prayers--

His white iridescent eyes catch moonlight that finally breaks through the vacating storm, storm clouds somehow feeling nostalgic and impossibly far above. His six legs fidget, step two three four five and six six six -- his white foreleg grating against the earth with a bit of irritation. He always felt so betrayed when he woke from those dreams. Like so much more than he recalled had been stripped from him.

He moves out into the drenched surroundings with precious little wetness to his own body and glances once over his shoulder in thanks to the tree that had spared him the majority of the offense from the skies. His thick tail snaps, biting the rise of bugs away from his flank as he shakes again and snorts. Morning approached already. It was time to move.

That was something he understood about himself - that the universe always turned and stagnation was a danger not even the stars could abide for long before succumbing to meteor or their energy overflowing and imploding them from within.