Bab 94: The Aryan

FIRST GENERAL AEDEO OF THE HYMNS OF THE WINDS

38 Years Ago

The wind is blowing, caressing my face softly. My eyes flutter to a wake.

It is already near evening, the skies' colors a bright shade of scarlet, the sun basking the earth with the day's last rays of sunlight. How beautiful. 

Ah, looks like I feel asleep while reading. This is exactly why I told father that I'm not the scholarly type. The scripts bore me, and reading and studying is a burden to me. More than all that, I would prefer not to be a scholar at all.

I stand up, the wind blowing my hair as it goes.

Oh gentle wind, wind that has guided our clan for the last million years, where oh where do I go? Where oh where do I belong? What is my place in this world?

The wind howls against the our home tree's branches, making the sturdy wood sway, the leaves rustle. I stay still as the tree's roots, in place, frozen, listening to the guidance of the hymns of the wind.