When any two souls meet, it is by the strangest of chances, when given the infinite potential of events occurring each day. Therefore, I have made it my practice to value every encounter, and I am firmly convinced that there is purpose and meaning in each and every one. When I awoke in a nest of the softest leaves and soil, between the feet of that most sublime of creatures, I had no question that for some reason he was meant to find me, ever since the first stirring of what would one day become my person. And what nobler a purpose could a great creature such as the White Raven serve, than to spare an entire species of thinking people from extinction. I've come to see that unformed land, with its still mists and expanding horizons, as the place of my true beginning. I became the sire to billions that day, so close to the edge of complete erasure, and have ever looked to the angelic bird as a sort of surrogate maker.

It stands to reason then that I sought to continue my association with Windaji and his familiar. I spent many long years building a monument to them in the far region where I convalesced under the White Raven's watchful wings. The nearest settled land was populated by tall, dark skinned dustfolk who revered the hunter and the white bird. Windaji bid me ride on his shoulder so that they would see me as a person of value, and so they gave me comfort and care while I recovered from the horrors I'd suffered. I would have rather been carried again by the bird, or ridden between his powerful shoulders, but the hunter knew his admirers, and it turned out well for me to heed his command. So long had I been in their presence that I'd learned to interpret his booming voice and the raven's luminous stares. Those in the settlement looked on me with awe as I nodded to Windaji's parting words, and would hold me in still higher esteem as the pair would occasion to visit me in years to come. But it was not until my twentieth year among them that the true meaning of their fondness for me would be fully revealed, and only to me, as only I could see through the fog they cast about the eyes of others.

They came as Mortals, a strong man with skin and teeth like those of the village, so that they thought him to be a cousin from far away. The white bird on his shoulder reminded them of their patron's familiar, so they treated the man with special kindness, and were quick to grant his request to become a member of the village. While he dwelt among us the village prospered greatly, and in short time we were a proper town, and then a city with walls and battlements and strong towers. The elders selected a king, though they'd hoped to make the man who I knew to be the Hunter their ruler. He refused, and instead recommended several of their own. The man they chose had a very wise and disciplined wife, and under their shared rulership we became a place to be both loved and feared.

There was a festival on the day of the king and queen's coronation. Grassfolk of neighboring villages attended and swore fealty, and the man and his white bird, who we'd come to know as Rak'Ashka and Koraki, were given special honor, and I knew that though the grassfolk were unaware that they honored Windaji, the Might of the man shone unseen to be revered in their hearts, and so they loved him. He danced with the new princess, a lovely red maiden named Yemi'Sul, that is, Worthy of Sunlight, and to the joy of the king and queen there was a glow in Rak'Ashka's eyes. Their love grew quickly (too quickly, perhaps) and before long they were betrothed. There were rumors of infidelity between them, and I can vouch as I often stood watch over the silo or grove or patch of tall grass they'd stolen off to. But these rumors seemed not to vex these people, so blinded as they were by their affection for the man.

Their wedding was nigh, and Windaji had grown very fond of not only this Mortal girl, but of her parents as well, and he gave no thought to the disparity of their natures, planning to sire a mighty brood of hybrideans on this poor creature whose loins would gape after birthing a single child, and so soon after Genesis, while the miracle of birth was still a thing of facsimile. Perhaps Windaji knew of a way to impress his higher nature upon his lowly mate, or perhaps he was merely reckless and thought only of his pleasure.

He wanted to give here parents each an impressive gift, so he left, departing from his Mortal form, and brought back a string of pearls for the queen and a pelt for the king. The pearls removed every line and crease in the skin of the queen and king, so long as she wore them. The pelt, as green as an infant blade of grass, summoned from the crown of Arun a single beam that shined only on him, and would pierce through even a stone roof to illuminate the Mortal lord. They were fine gifts, beautiful gifts, dangerous gifts, taken from creatures who would not go unavenged.

They stood before the circle of stones made on the crown of the highest hill to the east, and were about to make their oaths of wedlock, when the watchmen sounded their clarion howls. The people ran to the safety of their strongholds while the slingers and spear throwers swarmed to their posts. I followed my Mighty friends, standing on a box so I could see beyond the wall. Koraki perched beside me, and with a dip of his head he told me I had nothing to fear, so I looked at the assailing beasts with only curiosity. I'd never seen such creatures as they. I'd never guessed such creatures could exist. There was a lion, and a lioness, their hides an iridescent viridian that looked to be made of polished green steel. And behind them were a throng of mollusks that strode on legs that almost looked like a bird's, though they were numerous and made of stone. Between the lions was a single cub, small and forlorn.

These were no ordinary beasts, but they were elemental and touched by the divine in the same manner as my faithful friend. The White Raven cawed and lifted a wing, and though in his guise the wing was small, its shadow stretched across the stony path outside the gate.

Soon we were besieged, as the mollusks spat stones that felled a dozen of the peltasts on the walls, and we were forced to retreat to the lower levels, congregating mostly in the yard and on the steps of the pyramid where the monarchs sat in judgement. There we listened to the pounding of the mollusk's rocks, and the roaring of the great lions. All the while Windaji paced about by the gate, heedless of the stones that would occasionally break through the tightly woven posts of the wall. The White Raven stayed ever by me, cawing peacefully, and those who stood near us were calm, while others grew more and more afraid.

After several days the queen grew worried over the hearts of the people, and she spoke in private with her husband. He then decided they should mount an attack, as the marauders had not wavered in their ire or lessened their assault. There were enough holes in the wall now that in some places it creaked, and I patched up a few that had grown large enough for a child to crawl through. The mollusks were not much larger than a grassfolk child.

Windaji saw the king's plan and approved, and said a blessing over the woven balls of grass, so that when they flew blazing over the enemy they would split into many without losing their size, and the people were in awe of what grace this man Rak'Ashka must have been granted by the Mighty, that they would hear his blessing and approve. So it seemed to them. The balls of grass did more than scatter fire, but burst with enough force to shatter many of the mollusks. Those who survived gathered their fallen into heaps by the wall and began to climb over, and soon there was battle within the city.

The grassfolk went wild, fighting like Fiends, though I knew that when the battle was won their howling would turn to tears; so many young ones died. I took up arms; a two handed hammer and a stout sword with a large shield. Well, it was large for me, though no more than a buckler for the grassfolk smith who carved it. I gave it my all, showing the love I felt for these people who gave me kinship despite our many stark differences. But with every swing of my hammer I wept, because the shells I crushed were the shells of infants come to avenge the wanton slaying of their mother, and were I Mighty myself I would have scolded Windaji. He fought always near the gate, scarcely hiding his Might. By his prowess the enemy was vanquished, though we were still besieged, for outside prowled the lions. No blast or point or bludgeon could harm them, and they knew we had no hope, so they stalked with their jaws low and open, tongues lolling, eyes rolling, throats thundering. All we could do was wait in fear, until Windaji could stand it no more.

Yemi'Sul was clutching his arm when he began his metamorphosis. She dropped her spear and fell back, gasping at the sight of her betrothed as he expanded to a height greater than any of the watchtowers. Gone now were his tusks and rounded was his skull, so that he appeared as a golem of deep copper, and Arun's crown did obeisance to him. His scintillating spear formed in his grasp only seconds before he leapt. When he came down there was a sound of breaking and rending, and then a sound of screaming and of wailing. The snarls of the green lions were quickly cut short, and soon our patron came bounding over the wall in a torrent of luminous blood. The vitriol of the lions's veins did wash away from his holy form, but the stain of their murder had turned his eyes askew. The man's once noble brow looked crazed, and Yemi'Sul hid behind her father's back.

"You cannot have my daughter, Mighty One," said the king. "Please forgive me, my lord, but she is not for you. Her womb would split if she were to bear so great a seed."

Windaji spoke, but as he was in his Mighty form his words were tumult, a trumpeting from the sky, and the people cowered. I though, could hear his words, and they made me sad.

WOMB? WHAT KNOW YOU OF WOMBS AND SEED? THAT WOMAN IS NO MORE THAN AN IDEA, AND SHE SHOULD BE HONORED TO BE CHOSEN AS A VESSEL FOR MY AMBITIONS. SHE WILL BE A MOTHER TO A MIGHTY BROOD BECAUSE I HAVE DEEMED IT SO, AND YOU ARE NO ONE TO DEFY ME, KING OF ANTS WHO FEAST ON FOOD GROWN BY YOUR BETTERS.

I was not alone in my sadness. Koraki was gone, forgotten in the visage of the White Raven. Crystalline, sublime, a million teardrops turned to ice that breathes, he hovered like a vision over his old friend's shadow and sang a dirge. Windaji halted for a moment, and he calmed enough for his armor to melt away and leave behind his manlike flesh. But the fear in the grassfolk's eyes soon turned to rage, and they hurled stones at the liar god. He had been a hunter, and so they, the hunters of the jungles and the plains, had revered him as their patron. Now he had become a trickster, a changeling, and a robber and raper of a young woman's heart, so they despised him, and spurned him boldly. He turned to copper again, and his spear once more was born from the wind in his hungry hands. But then the White Raven showed his precious wisdom and took Yemi'Sul in his talons. There was a song like the a hundred harps and an infinite choir, heralding a blaze of white light that for a moment the Crowns both bowed to, giving to it the entirety of the sky. When the blaze had faded away, the great bird and young princess were gone.