The Grey Strand

I tried to lower myself down from the clouds, but the rope made of my own fleece was too short to reach the ground. I cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, the rope was longer—braided with coarse, grey fur that smelled of a predator. I climbed down and hugged my mother, but she only shivered, looking right through me. The Warden dragged me back before I could speak. Now I stand before the River that dissolves all memories and earthly possessions. So why am I the only soul here wearing a brand new sweater?