In the cold, dark outside of the forest, Orko cradled baby Furaha in his arms in front of a warm fire. He had magicked up some pillows to make his exposed pantless blue bottom comfortable and less achy as he sat before the fire in the great outside and snuggled his baby sister, who was getting more and more sleepy. As he cradled her in his soft arms, Orko began to tell his little sister stories and sing her lullabies in his soft, squeaky, scratchy voice. He told her why babies drink milk, who put all the stars in the sky and why grasshoppers got their name, all made up in his own words. Often, he paused to look up at the sky, then into the blazing light of the fire, its flames reflected in his yellow eyes. He felt warm and loved looking at such dancing lights, made by his own bare Trollan hands, as he kissed and hugged his little sister, as only a big brother can. He tickled baby Furaha under her chin, and she snuggled deep into his arms and yawned a soft, gentle yawn only an angel can yawn. Orko stroked her little fluffy tummy, yawned and snuggled onto his pillow, holding Furaha tight in his arms. While he slept, he used sleepy magic to produce a raincloud which rained on the fire he made. After it did its task, it faded away, and Furaha and Orko were left to sleep in the deep darkness of nature, hearing sounds such as bats squeaking as they flew high above, the beautiful Summer wind howling and making the trees blow in the wind, and their happy thoughts.