The clear beautiful sky only has one thing to say, practically screaming of youthful joy and fun. Song birds sing and insects chirp as such hopeful thoughts are far from your worried mind. It is the summer of the two hundred and thirty sixth year of the Leasis Dynasty, the bold sun above undaunted by any clouds or even the thought of precipitation. To those within their villages, towns or cities it is a time of prosperity, you were supposed to be along with such blessed souls.

The clear sky ahead was punctured by the Cat-tail Mountains, a large serrated range that climbs high into the sky. Hiding from the hot sun beating down on you in the shade of a tree you sip from the large waterskin. You wish to be playing with your friends, racing through the golden fields of wheat and the small orchard or fruit trees.

But the chance of that happening was long gone. Whatever friends of yours that weren't dead were too sickly to even stand. Your uncle had shown you their spindly frames before he too became bedridden. They were empty sacks drawn over naught but frail sticks. The opposite of a full bundle. Their bones rattled about within as they tried and failed to move.

You weren't supposed to be a hero, you aren't even the first to leave. The young men had all jumped at the chance to prove themselves, to reach the Cat-tail God of the Mountain and discover a way to remove the curse plaguing your people. The Village suffered for months, dwindling bit by bit. Hopefully awaiting their heroes return. On the second day of the third month your father brought you before the Village Chief. Now it was your turn to be sent. None remained untainted, your father could hardly stand as he dutifully led you to the bed bound geezer you have known your entire life. The stains of Curse did not spare you, the tell tale signs of early symptoms visible. A branching coil of murky bruises climbs up your left leg and arm, your father explained it began in the extremities, eating away until almost nothing remained.