prologue
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ONCE upon a time, in the days when knowledge and wisdom were reconciled and intertwined, the earth dwelled wild and harmonious, man with nature and nature with man. But as the years progressed, knowledge waxed and wisdom waned, and the vain spirit innate within all creatures stirred within the heart of man, and his Age began. Little by little he grew conscious of his own greatness in power and in will and forsook the prudence of the primitive for the enlightenment of progress. Dwellings of dead wood sprang where once the living flourished; fields of cultivated crops grew where once it was given freely. Civilizations thrived, and man, of his own might, subjugated the humble dirt.
And as the days advanced into his era, so did the wild things of the world retreat further into the shadows of the mother womb, for magic and mysticism is no match for technology and stubborn logic. The Mother diminished, and with her, the spirits of her youth.
Man continued on, forging his destiny.
Far to the West, upon the last strongholds of the Ancient Spirit within the sentient shadows of the White Mountains, he stretched forth his domain. A settlement was established along the banks of the river, just outside the border of a lush forest. The people were an example of their kind- simple but, by instinct, driven with a need for order and reason. However, they were not the first of their kind to enter the domain of the White Mountains and its surrounding forest, for there civilization had long ago encroached, and there was an antiquated town, small, self-sufficient, and forgotten by the rest of the world. It was this village which they rejuvenated with gifts of modern technology, and this village into which they eventually assimilated until the years erased the last trace of divide between the old and new inhabitants.
The village prospered as well as it could, growing in population and in comforts despite its out-of-the-way location. The people farmed the land and fished the waters and reaped the abundance which spilled forth from the forest- the wild birds and animals that supplemented their meats and provided their leather. But though the forest was swelling with untapped richness, few dared to venture within its shade, for it was a wild forest and housed the remnants of the Unknown things that had once thrived freely in the ancient days.
The people feared these Unknown things that skirted about their establishment, sprites of the wind and water, and as a measure of protection, they elected a wise priestess, knowledgeable of the ancient ways, as intercessor to the spirits of the forest. At her behest, they built a little shrine within the forest, at the base of a towering tree fifteen feet in diameter, and it was here that she lived, a virginal maiden according to her station, and the last of her kind.
The name of the priestess was Midoriko, and in addition to being wise and knowledgeable, she was also very beautiful with ivory skin and midnight hair. Every time she traversed through town for supplies, her appearance caused the men to murmur dishearteningly that such beauty should go unclaimed.
But Midoriko was a proud and headstrong woman who valued her virtues above her beauty, her strength above the sentiments of her sex. She was independent and self-reliant. She needed no man. Rather, what Midoriko wanted in the solitary days of her life, was a child, and though she valued duty above desire, this void inside of her expanded day by lonesome day, aching for satisfaction.
When she traveled into town to replenish her provisions, she watched the mothers with their children and sighed, longing for one of her own. A little hand to hold, to guide, to love. For though Midoriko was a woman of great mind and great spirit, her heart was empty.
Sadly she watched the little children playing in the snow, sculpting animals and people, before returning to her shrine to wait out the long winter in loneliness.
Until, in the dead of the frozen season, the Night granted her wish…