An artist sits on her bed, drawing faeries and what-nots. She dreams in her head, of tiny elven tots. They titter and tap throughout her mind, and she ponders and dreams, to create them of strange kind, and still, they are not perfect it seems. To draw or not to draw, what is not finished in her head? She chooses the first straw, and loads her lead... A graphite explosion! of beautious sketchings, with small smears and corrotions accross the etchings. As she scratches the paper canvas, with her pencil she holds so dear, she shades that and smears this, with her shader oh so near. And an hour later, she comes to find, she's created a species, of another kind.