Once, there was a boy. He had a whole family. They all lived on a mountain.

When the boy was just over being a baby, his mama died.

So they were a family without a mama.

They moved to town because the mountain was sad and so were they.

The boy growed from being a little boy until he was a bigger boy. But not a whole big boy yet.

And his father died, too, and then the town was sad, and everywhere he lived someone died dead.

Someone in his family.

People die everywhere when they can't live anymore.

The boy did not like that. He didn't want nobody else to die. He wanted his family to stay alive.

Most of all, he didn't want to see them get dead.

It was sad in town and it was sad on the mountain, but the mountain was nicer. There were no people.

Since there were no people, they couldn't die there.

So the boy went to his mountain and he found trees with no insides and caves and some holes where he could live.

He went there to live and take care of himself.

No one else would die taking care of him, He could do it himself.

He could hear his family when they came. Maybe they were looking for him, maybe not.

So he knew they weren't dead, and he knew his plan was working.

So he lived happily ever after and nobody else died.