“Let me tell you a story, young ones. One my grandmother used to tell me. A story from before the Great War.”

The children gathered around the elder Rissi and sat down, letting her take a perch atop a stool from where she could see out over her small herd.

“A farmer wanted to lay a new field, but there was a single tree stood in the way. It was an old tree, that had been there for quite a long time. She got out her axe and cut it down, tearing up the stump and its roots to make way for her field.

She thought she'd killed the tree. But she was wrong. A Xhu ate one of the nuts the tree produced, and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Later, a new tree started growing from where that Xhu left the nut behind. The farmer didn't know what had happened, but the new tree was angry. One day, a ferocious gust of wind blew a thousand seeds from the tree all over the farmer's field, and ruined her crop.

Now, children. What does this story tell us? A great tree might be reduced to the tiniest seed, but the tiniest seed can bloom into a full forest. That doesn't mean it will, children – but it reminds us that we can never know for certain which way the winds will blow in days yet to come.”