Prologue
As children our parents had often warned us not to wander into the woods alone. They told us fearful stories of crazed and deformed animals hungry for meat, and yellow fog that burnt away at your skin, melting your lungs. And they told us stories of the Mountain Men.
Most of the children listened fearfully, happy to stay within the safe boundaries of Tondc. But Lincoln and I were children of warriors and were determined to prove ourselves. We snuck out of the village some days and wandered through the trees, pretending to hunt with our toy bows. Our adventures often led to new discoveries, such as caves and tunnels. Lincoln had found the largest just outside the boarder of our lands and had started drawing pictures on the rock with charcoal. He had always been a talented artist. We met there most days, and had been playing there when we both saw the box fall from the sky.
It had crashed to Earth and shook the ground violently. At first I had been fearful, but Lincoln was determined to find it. Searching through the forest we soon found the metal box, surrounded by charred trees. It was larger than both of us, but would fit no more than one adult. We watched the thing as it made a range of hissing noises, then opened its front to reveal a man inside. He was pale, with short dark hair and clean skin. I had never seen someone so clean before.
Lincoln, braver than I, approached the man. He was hurt and could not move, only speaking softly to the boy. I recognised the words first; he was speaking the language of the warriors. A language neither Lincoln nor I knew. But we wanted to help this hurt man from the sky, so we had gathered berries and water and fed him.
Lincoln was fascinated by the sky man. He visited him every day, gathering food and medicine hoping to help. Sometimes I followed. Most times I did not. It seemed foolish to me to help someone that spoke Gonasleng. After all, was that not the language of our enemies the Mountain Men? But Lincoln was kind, a definite flaw among our people.
Several days after finding the Sky Man Lincoln told his father, one of our most feared warriors. He had marched us both to the box and handed his son a knife. I watched as Lincoln was forced to push the blade into the man's throat and the essence of life leave the man's eyes. I had never seen the death of another human until then.
Lincoln's father had told us it was safer for our people to kill the Sky Man. Those that were not us would kill us. Lincoln never believed those words. Some part of me didn't either.
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