You are floating high, high in the clouds, and for a few heartstopping moments it might seem like there’s nothing supporting you--and then you realize that your feet are, indeed, resting on something. A rainbow. It stretches down behind you, branching and twining and disappearing into the clouds. It’s quite cold, the air is thin, but the sun is bright upon you. Before you, the rainbow touches ground upon a floating island. At the head of the bridge, barring your way, stands a great elk carved of wood, head lowered, a tremendous sharp-tined rack of antlers forming the gate to the floating land.