Whispers On The Winds of Time (book)

Whispers On The Winds of Time
by Kyrie Needels

Allow me to introduce myself; I am Master Bard Kyrie Needels. My main interest lies in the telling of tales, tall and otherwise. For several years now, I have traveled Elanthia in search of new material, and I have found that many good stories are recounted over ale or at a campfire. Amazing quantities of our history are stored in the minds and hearts of our populace and often lost with the passing of the teller. I have chosen for my life's work to ensure that some of these tales reach a wider audience so that future generations may also enjoy them.

The tale I offer you today was one shared by an old Rakash woman I had the privilege of sharing a campfire with deep within the Ker'leor one chilly spring night. After dinner, I felt comfortable enough to inquire as to the changes her race experiences. She responded by howling an acknowledgement at Katamba, whose fullness in the night sky was evidenced by her fine coat, before reciting in a voice enhanced by a low growling timbre:

"Our ears and hearts are as one now, as they have always been, as befits the grand pack that follows and serves the Lord God Mrod. So it has been told, passed from lip to ear all the years of our lives, of the ways of the pack, the Rakash, and the Lord God Mrod.

We have changed now, not in our ways, but in where we live, thrown from our homes in flight from unspeakable evil. We have surmounted such before, and we shall again. The way of the pack leads all to the best, and so we continue, even through change.

Ah yes, we change; it is the way of survival of the pack. Our lovely coats and claws and fangs have always been ours and we have ever been the masters of their use. It is true that now we walk often among these new ones and they call us 'human'. Their eyes are false for they do not see more than that which they wish to view. Why do I speak such you ask? Because I was birthed long ago behind that wall we left, grown and schooled in the ways of the pack, the Rakash ways, before we mingled and mixed and forgot our history. Many of my age who began the trek never reached this new land. The young are the ones who survived, often barely, even using our wits and pack and abilities. Alas, all of history cannot be retained in one small young mind and much has been lost. One mind? Let me explain.

In the old lands, the pack was supreme and of one mind. Rakash of every age contributed to that one mind, from the newest cub to the oldest herder. Strength, initiative and risk-taking were the values contributed by the young; the elders contributed wisdom, experience and moderation. The young did not dispute the elders, as the young were busy in pursuit of what every young cub pursues -- the male or female mate to form their own pack. Thus, those settled elders ruled the mind of the pack. With the passing of the elders, the pack mind lost much and attention became focused on continuing the pack. Not a bad idea, just not one not eminently suited to maintaining history in an oral tradition. It is for this reason I share my knowledge with you now. Please set it upon a scroll that all may read, learn, and continue our ways even when we who have lived through our trials breathe no more.

So, where to begin? Let me begin with what I was taught about our long-ago lives. When the four moons orbited in the heavens and we lived always in moonskin, our lives were the same and different. The pack was everything, we followed Mrod, and we lived well.

In the old days, there were Rakash priests who knew what had happened, but that knowledge was passed on in a rite long lost and never shared with anyone I knew. All I do know is that Grazhir was pearlescent and lit up the sky, and Katamba shone gold as the sun. Until the time of the darkness, that is. Grazhir was destroyed, and Katamba was charred and lost her glow. As she cooled, we began to change in the darkness. We lost our moonskins and came to slightly resemble something called humans, according to those Rakash who had traveled far and returned.

It is no surprise that, to a pack, there was a great cry. The elders met. An entire nation began praying to their God, seeking answers. We are told that Mrod listened, and at the next fullness of Katamba he granted us our moonskins for a short time. We have changed with Katamba since those long-ago days, and so it has been since time has been recorded."