The First Flower

The Land of Kihan was once breathtaking.

Quartstones lined the moor-streams; reflecting moonlight in a rainbow of colours. Now, the waters are murky and almost always crimson. Vegetations that were green as well as thick that provided food source for both humans and man-beast, were now wilted and sparse. Wild but nourished animals that roamed the land are bone-thin and diseased. The trees, once full, bares no leaves and have little to no fruits.

Sukhara, a woodland creature, blessed with time but still considered young among her kind, had grown with the land and its changing seasons. She had watched from afar, the destruction caused by the on-going war. Her once known heaven, now a smeared red and brown in memory. The air almost always smelled of burnt flesh, smoke and metal.

The Land of Kihan was at its most restless state.

The war waged between the humans and man-beasts were bloody and showed no end. No one remembered how it started. The patriarch leaders of both sides only knew that it was a long war, that both sides will never concede to the other and that according to their forefathers, peace will only come after winning.

The humans, with their five-fingered hands, pale faces and quiet voices, lived near the rocky hills. They had built a tall fortress, a mixture of red clay and gray rocks, protecting their small kingdom. The human's patriarch was called Edward Gasef. He was of sturdy built, with flaming coiffed hair and sky-blue eyes. As he was quick on his feet, he was calculative and resourceful.

The man-beasts, with their sharp claws, heightened sense of smell, strong built and animalistic faces, lived at the end of the forest, where the maze-like caves are situated. The man-beast's patriach was called Jinte Hura. His fur was as black as night with amber feline eyes. He was of towering heights and strength that could snap even the sturdiest of tree barks in half.

Sukhara watched and learnt and feared.

She watched generations of humans and man-beasts fight for reasons no other than fear and the unknown. She watched most of them die, thankful that they have killed at least one of the other. But most importantly, she saw the changes it had made to them after each glorified kill. The darkness that ate away at their hearts. The darkness that followed them back home and even spread to their young.

Through a safe distance, she learnt that humans were loving. They nurtured their young. They had a sense of comradeship and respect for one another. On rare days, music and laughter filled the air. She also learnt that the man-beasts were compassionate and playful. They cared strongly for their young. They deemed each man-beast, no matter what beast-lineage, as kin. Sukhara realised that the heart of both men and man-beast were the same.

She also feared the days of war. It was frequent. Often, because of a border dispute or death or hatred. The woodland creatures, magical beings, had a duty of tending to nature to ensure an ecological balance. However, the damage on the surrounding area was too severe to repair and Sukhara's kind was also affected. If nature dwindled, so would all magical and non-magical creatures alike.

On a single night, where the stars were not blanketed by smoke caused by burning corpses, Sukhara learnt that by watching and fearing, nothing would be achieved.

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The woodland creatures, with their delicate wreathes made of thistle and berries, heart-shaped faces and copper complexions, were forced to abandon their old homes by the moor-streams, and made refuge up north, beyond the hills and the thickest of forests. It was a place that they shared with the squirrels, deers, birds, rabbits and other woodland animals.