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For every story that will end a new one shall begin . . .



. . . and when the forest had become corrupt with the infulence of outsiders and thoes who had lived there could not be seen as who they once were for their depraved acts and sinister ways perverted who they were, a great fire swept down and burned the forest and all who dwelt there. The fire left nothing behind except a black scar upon the land, but time heals all and as this story ended a new one sprung up in its place. From the ashes a seedling grew foretelling the eventualy return of the great forest and with the life and bounty of the forest a new tribe would be founded on that day, the day all was ready for them and so she waited. She waited in the heavens until their home had flourished, she waited for the day her tribe would look to the heavens and smile once more . . .
-Yakut shamaness

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