You start out early in the morn, while the dew still clings to the grass leaf, and the early morning mist plays around your hooves. You trot out into the day, playing with the swirling mist. As mid morn approches you see before you a large hill gently sloping upwards. You gallop up its gentle slopes, reaching your neck out and grabing a mouthful of golden grass as you pass galloping by. The only sounds that you hear as you gallop is the grass swaying as you push past and at soft chatter of bird song. By high noon you gentle slopes have worn you down, so you slow to a long reaching trot, still no sign of the top of the hill. You keep on trotting and pass through a cold mist. Upon reaching the other side of the mist you decide to move up into a canter and suddenly the ground levels out, but you don't notice it at first. When you do you stop and look around you you are standing on a flat table land. Something bothers you but you can not figure it out, suddenly it hits you - the absence of sound-. It is so quite up here and as you look down the hill you see the clouds hugging the hill side. The sky over head is a vast plain of blue with a firery orb floting out in the middle of it giving the place no sence of time. You have reached the hills of time.

.:::.Territories.:::.:::.The Meadows.:::.