The Firebird of Koschei the Deathless

You know, I often wish I had a long green flying-cloak I could use to summon springtide, or, better yet, terraform Mars. Then, I could merely swoop through the thin, chilly skies of that rust-locked planet, or soar down the Valles Marineris, or overtop the Everest-shaming grandeur of Olympus Mons, and spread a sylvan garden, kingly with oak, gorgeous with grass, flower-gemmed and rich with heavy pinelands clad, flowing in my wake, and butterflies would be my heralds.

The only drawback of the t