I grew up on Shen-zin Su with my father, older brother, Tam and my twin sister Quenthel. While giving us life, our mother was called to be with our elders. Sadly as I drew my first breath, she breathed her last. Father missed his beloved wife and mourned her always. Even so, he never held the loss of her against us. He used to tell us we were the ones who lost the most for we had never known her. So wise our father. Tam, however never let us forget we were the reason he had no mother. Tam took every opportunity to torment us. His cruelty knew now limits. Often we had to run into the forest to escape him. Father would find us huddled under a tree. Sometimes we held each other and cried. Father would scold Tam and punish him but this only fuelled his anger. Our father was such a peaceful, gentle man and the actions of his sadistic son tortured him to the depths of his very soul. We watched him grow old before his time. Tam’s vicious temper was not limited to Quenthel and me alone. Once when we were twelve or so we happened upon him beating a young yak he was supposed to be training to the yoke. He would have beaten the poor beast to death had Quenthel not struck him with a lightning bolt, knocking him to the ground. Our father was a powerful shaman and had been schooling us in the shamanistic arts. As shocked as I was at how powerful Quenthel had become I think Tam was even more shocked. We took the calf and healed his wounds. And though we could heal his body we could not heal his mind. The poor creature had so much fear in him he could not be trained to yoke. Father gave him to his good friend, Brother Shen, a wise old monk who lived near the temple. A couple years later I saw the yak roaming freely near the old temple. He seemed so serene cropping grass in the pasture. I wished I could be like that yak. Free. Free from my brother’s cruelty. Free from rules. Free from the confines of this land. Free to explore the world. Just free. Though I loved my home and family, I decided then, if I ever had the chance to explore the outside world I would leave and do so. Once Tam married and moved to his own home our lives became less consumed with survival and more focused on training. Still we prayed and burned incense for Tam and his new wife daily. Poetic justice some might say, for as cruel as he could be, his new wife could be even worse. He was finally getting a taste of his own potion. Oddly this brought me no joy. We settled into a quieter life, spending our days picking herbs for potions and listening to father’s stories. Father taught us his secrets and we continued learning and perfecting our craft. There was singing and laughter in our home and a joy in father’s eyes. I often wondered if this is how life would have been had our mother not died.

Those were happy years.

And then the ships came. . .