Perhaps a new fable is made
Creatures frozen for all time were granted just six days of life each year.
The mountains would pulse with fever, breath would be sighed in scrolls and they learned centuries ago to live side by side rather than fight for territorial domain.
Eagles would circle the land, casting long shadows over the landscape, but even they were left to Time’s devices and awoke on the same six days.
It was an uncanny bonding of souls and instinct, young and old, prey and predator, but had a strange harmony as if each species were glad to breathe in the air and remember days long passed when they were warm blooded and not figments of someone’s imagination when the sun set.