The icy blast of wind,
the swirling snow.
Frozen.
Out of the pure whiteness.
Jakaranda.
All the children flew away,
when they touched my hand.
Jakaranda would spend his days high in the mountains, away from the tribes down in the Matari desert. He was an outcast, a drifter. Come nightfall he would shelter in the caves, away from the harsh winds and dangerous mountainside conditions. The darkness was pure, it was a lonely place.
The young Vherokior children were warned of a man who lived up high in the mountains, should they venture into the ice then they would meet their demise, for Jakaranda would be waiting, ready for child flesh, blood and bone. The Elders would tell tales of the man who talked to the Wolves. The children were brought up on fear and the name Jakaranda was one they did not like to utter.
Many would say that the connection with the wolves was one of myth and folklore for the wolves were feared and savage, surely a man could not tame such beasts. But it was not myth for those who had dared to venture, a very select few had witnessed Jakaranda side by side with the wolves, they spoke of him as one of the wolves, some even describing him as being half-man and half-beast. Such madness can brew in the mind of the wicked.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
One night the tribes were awakened by the blistering sound of starship engines, struggling and screeching in the winter sky, trails of fire could be seen from far, spluttering smoke billowed from the back of the craft as it hurtled into the mountains and with a great crash an explosion boomed and the flash was blinding but then it fell silent again. The tribes returned to their huts and offered up a young Vherok goatling as sacrifice. They danced by a fire and sang songs into the dawn.
A golden hulled Amarrian starship burned away in the glistening morning sun, the soft white snow in stark contrast. Three escape pods littered the crash scene, their beacons lit and their transmitters blinking furiously. A Vherokior man of the mountains emerged from his cave and made his way down to the site of the carnage.
To be continued . . . . .
