Prompt:
Off the Map's Edge: The Flight of the Stoors
Off the Map's Edge: The Flight of the Stoors
All of it happened a very long time ago, before even my grandmother’s grandmother was alive. A shadow came from the North, a great hand stretching over the lands. We fled its grasp. We walked across the mountains and came to this valley of golden flowers.
We were happy here. We fished for food and our grandmothers guided us. Then one of us went missing.
Now people whisper in the dark. There are secrets and lies. In ones and twos we slip away. Our grandmothers speak of another long walk. Perhaps we will come again, in time, to kindlier places.