This story doesn't happen in your time, nor does it happen in your world. And though I am no longer a part of the ancient world that I once called home, my spirit still floats on the wind with wings of eagles. You see, this story takes place thousands of years ago in the land of Marangail. We lived on the open plains amongst snow covered mountains. We covered vast distances over streams and glades. We were hunters by trade. We hunted during all of the seasons, through torrential rains, blistering summers, and bone-chilling blizzards. This tale is not my own, though. No, this is a tale of a...