Straight back to her warrens straight back to the source was where she would flee as a matter of course. With passions inflamed and a fire within she'd ratchet back fury and then soon begin to douse soothe and quiet with white stillness pure while hoping thus peacefulness long to ensure. Now out of this practice did emerge a path to lessen the sting and the bite of her wrath and usher in peacefulness there at her very core returning to silent compassion once more. When seeing the nothingness shine from her face her enemies quick for their redoubts would race abandoning their plans to upset her seat concerned but for themselves and their living meat. She rose from the ashes of unconquered Grig where little was moving chicken nor pig and pulled from the rubble her untarnished sword and uttered these hallowed legendary words: 'Good riddance invaders who now scamper forth we've proved to them today our true stalwart worth and saved our city and our precious lands from those foul rapacious those far-roving bands. Now pick up a shovel and help mend these walls and help now rebuild these vaulted meeting-halls and look not to vengeance but always to peace – there's no point in us too becoming such beasts. We praise Nuuzstathena and thank her anon for helping to ensure this battle was won and ask for her blessing upon those to come we humble Grigovians standing as one.' With that rose a cry from the gathering crowd of men dressed in rags and of women in shrouds who turned to their labors with much studied grace – huzzah for this high-mountain and hardy race!

What few homeless people still live in the streets were given this Solstice-Time shelter and sweets. Mere citizens did it, not the state’s agents, did go out and knock on those crude makeshift tents did gather belongings in bag tote and box and bring in said vagrants for champagne and lox. A few things were stolen – some knickknacks at best – but for the most part such light fingers did rest and reached for a napkin or reached for the salt and with their loud smacking their hosts did exalt. More of them did stay there to lend helping hands than went back outside to roam once more the land; some cannot be cured of their need to be free to wander and gather their food from the trees. We here in Grigovia believe it’s best to bring those with little straight into our nests to wash fête and furnish them with what they need be it a warm blanket or an honest feed. Ganestryx as well as fair Nuuzstathena do smile on they who hold anathema the notion that only the worthy deserve our food love and jackets our kindest of words. So open your doors to whomever may knock for she may be a goddess stood there in just socks in need of a kind and compassoinate word – or maybe a bit of that well-cooked Solst bird.

There stood on a mountain not far from her home an old angry cyclops who'd frozen to stone. One peak was his massive and man-crushing arse that was now not flesh and bone but rock and karst; another stark feature that reached to the sky was his dome-like forehead with its central eye. There was a long ridge made from his spinal tract that his rocky rump with his head did connect, upon which but foolhardy wanderers went – too many their blood and lives to it had lent. Regardless, the maiden – Lalu, to her friends – (she was a bit foolish) did not comprehend, the dangers and perils of fog and weather that lived in that high haunted wind-swept heather. She crossed the formation in one solid run then came to her senses (and nearly undone) when she saw the day's eye sink quickly below the high western mountains and their hats of snow. She started to shiver, remember a class that she had once taken as a pig-tailed lass, then found an outcropping that sheltered her some where she did then huddle and try to stay warm. Instead of just waiting in that spot to freeze she ripped up nearby moss and gathered some leaves and used them to make for herself a mattress so that on the rock the would not have to rest. To stoke up a fire was not an option and she had forgotten to bring her hand-phone – therefore she then prayed to the gods of her tribe and asked them to help her the night to survive. The message arrived in the eardrums of fair wise Nuuzstathena, who vanquishes fear, who sent out a legion of furry field-mice that swarmed upon Lalu and warmed her up nice. They crept in her pockets, invaded her coat, were thickest at ankles and kidneys and throat, and kept the young person alive through the night, but vanished as soon as they espied first light. The girl made it back home in time for breakfast, told all who would listen about her dire quest, then went to a temple where the Goddess lived where she many blessings and thank-yous did give.

The girl caught a fever while tending to sheep and falling high up in the meadows asleep. Through selfless devotion to each in her flock she'd built up a vast and deep love-karma stock so much so her actions the Goddess did please who saved her from death during a sudden freeze. The maiden awoke to spy frost on the ground where hours before only flowers she'd found and straddled above her with short-sword unsheathed was vast Nuuzstathena stood there on the heath. A wolf was approaching, his nose in the dirt, he looked up and glanced at the bight flashing skirt that girdled the loins of our Patroness fair whose green eyes were flashing amidst her dark hair. The beast turned and vanished with palpable hurry, his footfalls churned frozen mud into a slurry, the flock then came shivering back to her side as Nuuzstathena for the young girl cried. The tears of the Goddess rained down from on high – 'twas nary a thundercloud seen in the sky – they landed and mingled in eye, mouth, and nose of that blessed child who lay there and froze. The magical fluid soon entered her system and filled her with fortitude, honor, and wisdom, while deep in her body the blood it did boil with such intense heat that it softened hard soil. Now during this time of great bodily danger the maiden thought mostly of getting to manger the weakest and lowliest sheep in her care, about her own peril was barely aware. To teach her the Goddess then filled her with visions of methods for healing deep social divisions, for bringing together such humans as might prefer to be angry and constantly fight. Her missions accomplished the Goddess then sped and left Erya Rovend asleep on a bed of bright and green heather in a sea of frost, the young girl who'd gained much at so little cost. To see her just stop by New York's own U.N., where she stands to battle tyrannical men, and fills our Grigovian hearts with such pride, young Erya upon whom the Goddess once cried.