Lylanea's song tells of gently falling snow, which covers the valleys and hills, meadows, trees and bushes. Of hoarfrost on branches and roots, glistening in the sunlight.

It lets through the magic of the melody, the daylight slowly fades into the red of the sunset and finally into the night. A dark forest, the snow becomes denser, the wind more icy.

Lyl lets the violin tell, of a figure slowly trudging through the snow. Bent against the wind, wrapped in too thin robes, holding a flickering lamp in front of him. In the other arm a small bundle.

Lylaneas 's music suggests that something is moving in the bundle. A tiny body, a small face, sleeping fitfully. Tired arms hold the baby tightly and carry it, hastily through the cold night.

The artist ducks, writhes as if in fear, and the melody grows wilder. Tells of something dark, evil that pursues the couple through the winter night. Chattering, clicking, screeching, roaring. Many skinny legs hurry through the snow.

Lyl recreates the homin's movement in the snow as she plays. Staggers forward a few steps. Lets the threat in the music become more insistent, falls to her knees, ducks, makes herself small. Gives up. The music stops.

Then it plays a soft, trilling sound: The lantern still gives light.

She stops again, then straightens up and plays a new, heroic melody:
Homins burst out of the darkness of the forest. In the light of the lantern they rush towards the monsters. Brave and determined.

The bard lets the melodies fight, monsters against warriors. Lyl's eyes remain closed. The battle surges back and forth. The violin shrieks discordantly, calls like a war horn, clangs like a sword, hisses like magic and roars in pain.

It lets the clashing, contradictory melodies slowly ebb away. The melody of the warriors prevails, victorious. - A helping hand reaches out to the figure and is grasped.

It makes the melody of the fugitive merge with that of the heroes: together, the homins depart. Without a backward glance, at the dead bodies of the Kitin. The lantern wanders through the trees.

Lyl opens her eyes, looks at the audience as she delicately continues to play, and speaks softly: Help each other.

Lylaneas's song tells of gently falling snow covering the bushes, trees, meadows, valleys and hills. Of shimmering hoarfrost on branches and roots glistening in the light of a lantern slowly disappearing in the distance.
She lets the melody fade out ...