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I remember with each passing Kindling of winter our world grew a little bit smaller, yet the world outside of our village only became larger. As time passed and generations came and went, another was chosen to lead us, Kindling after Kindling, deciding how large our world would remain.
Long ago, we could reach through the forest and the plains, then we could go no further than the ancient trees, grown bent and sagging throughout their life, then it was the stream our great-grandparents used to play in, the shadows growing darker as our forest passed into the unknown. The trees edging our valley are now only a memory of that, the passage into our home forbidden for our safety. We are alone here in our valley, with everything we need to survive, with our families in our cosy village, providing and caring for each other. Safe in our own little world.
At least, that is the story that they kept telling us from since we were young...
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- Part 1 of Scraps
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