“It described a poem, on a cave wall written by changelings, as gibberish, worthless patterns,” I snarled. “It’s a poem that means a lot to changelings everywhere. About how one day, we changelings will one day be accepted amongst other races. How we can simply live. And Daring Do says it's a worthless pattern on a wall.” I levitated a piece of paper and wrote a sentence down in changeling, and pulled the Daring Do book open. “Notice a pattern?”