| Preface |
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Every story must have a beginning. Even our universe must tell us something of its origins before we can settle down and enjoy the story it will tell. And even though the beginning it offers us is but a fairytale - a magical Big Bang bursting us forth from nothingness into being; an omnipotent wizard name of God striking us forth from chaos with his wand - still we choose to believe these fairytales. For we must build our existence upon rock, however fantastically carved, and leave well alone the shifting sands of uncertainty. And so this tale. I can vouch for its truth - insofar as I can vouch for the truth of anything harboured but by the vagaries of memory. Yet the beginning - the real beginning - is known only to the forest, and she seeks always to cover her secrets, with her trenchmen the brambles, and their knights the saplings and trees. But through scouring local newspapers from that time, and listening to the people that lived around the forest, I have stitched together a beginning that resonates with truth enough for me. The story begins in wilderness, and must as surely end there as well, caring to pay but fleeting visit to our strange and smoky hearths. As we, from mystery sprung, have but mystery to embrace us in the end.
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