It’s a cave. But the winds that run through them echo the noises of what was once youthful fervour. That ruins on the hill ? Remnants of a once living breathing walking city whose feet of cobble and stone carried its inhabitants through lakes and valleys. All might come to dust but there is still life in these old bones of the earth.

They may not lift the mountains like the giants before them, or move the clouds like the wind of their breaths. But it is the stories that they tell one another and to their pups that brings out the bravery, the curiosity, and the empathy among them all.

Anjing simply translates to ‘canines’, or more specifically dogs, as most of the stories revolve around them and their paths on a world malleable to the whims of words. There will be tall tales of places that shouldn’t exist, creatures from the furthest dreams, and artifacts bound by no laws.

Fantasy is the word, but the ‘magic’ is not the lights of sorcery or the levitation of wizardry. It is the notion that the workings and machinations of the world are not defined by what we have set in stone, but are left to curiosity and wonder.