"I thought gods never died."
"I'm coming to that part.
"Over these hundreds of moons, the fairies which had been buried for so long, came once more alive, but not as fairies, no, fairies will never touch our world again, instead they grew into green trees, flowers of many colours, as so the world was full of beauty and happiness once more. The gods also changed. The earth was not good for them, adn slowly they evolved into our ancestors, humans."
"Oh, grandpa, that is a wonderful story. But is it really true that we are descendants of the gods?"
"It is true, Sweet Flower, it is as the ancestors have told us."
"And the grass I am sitting on, it was a fairy?"
"Is, is a fairy, and that is why we must look after our world, our nature, because the fairies still have their magic, even if they do not have their bodies, and bad things may happen if you follow the White Man's ways. Remember, Sweet Flower, and you too, Brave Warrior, if you do not remember any thing else of what I tell you - this story, and the message of the gods, the message from the fairies, look after the world and it's nature."
All three were silent for a while, thinking of the damage the Whit Man was causing to the world, thinking of how special it was to them.
"Anyway, it's time for bed, tomorrow I will tell you another story about a war which separated the whole world into particles, and how we all learnt a different manner of speaking. It is another story you must remember. Go now, be good children, sleep a restful sleep. To bed. Now!"
Laughing joyfully the children skipped and ran to their beds, only stopping to look at the twinkling stars, bright in the black, night sky.
"I wonder what their story is . . ."Sweet Flower whispered to her brother. "I wonder."