Far, far back in the mists of time, so long ago that even the most ancient story-songs barely recall, rests the memory of a tiny, light world with a bright blue-white sun. The world itself is lost to time and distance, but the story-songs remember the towering trees that climbed high as mountains, the mountains that rose above breathable air, and the deep valleys that sheltered the growing race. It was within one valley, a cleft that seemed to pierce the core of their planet (or so their story-songs tell, and if that is exaggeration, then perhaps it is not much of one), that the Song began, first and most treasured of the history-songs.
It begins reedy and soft, a mere list of details - Today, the Trees shook. Today, the Land trembled. Today, the baishu fell. Today we feasted on our hunters. Today, the Mother's eye went blind, then opened once more. Today, the Lady pulled the precious grey-silver rock from the Land below us. Today, we devoured the rocks, in hopes of healthier children. Today, we