The Beginnings Of A Tale

The beginnings of a tale always lead us into the unknown. What is there? We shall only find out if we start the journey. The thoughts flood out as the pen moves. They come with sitting. More shall come with the words. This is exactly how my journey into the past began.
As I sat there with the animals gathered around me in a wave of little furry faces, I began to tell my tale. They're eyes watched in awe as the past unfolding before them was borne yet again. For we all know that the past happens only once, and that it can not be chosen like the path that we walk down. For at the time you choose that path you do not know what lies ahead for you along that path for it is the future. But the second later that you choose to go down that path that choice becomes part of the past.
Now back to the tale; shall we?
As I closed my eyes and imagined all of it just as if it had happened nearly a minute ago. For it is not just a legend I was there.
Long ago it seems that I was here, but this has never happened. In the time of reflection it feels as if it was at the very beginnings of this place, now known as Ducnan. Before though when the very first humans came here it was known as Bloodikrivin or Blood River. There were many a blood trickle in this place and since then has forgotten its true start for all that were here since the beginning before they came and took charge are now few. The Sky, though remembers that time of great blood shed and of many an Elfin and Dragon that were slain. So, though it is weary for it to played a part in the battle once every year it sheds its remembrance with red storms.
They all shuddered in remembering the previous year where some of they're family members had been caught in that dreadful, horrifying storm and had relayed their story of being trapped and the faint images that they could remember of what they saw.
The humans they choose, though to be ignorant of the signs and have christened that particular day of the year storm day. I mean how bland and ignorant can they be. Stupid humans, it seems that not even one of them can see past that it is not just a storm, for I know that if they chose to look past just the word storm that they could see. They even just push the bloody memories of battle behind them, and tell none of it to their offspring ( at least those who are left, who were there). Whereas we can not forget or push back the memories they flood to us in abudance. While we are sleeping their visions torment us. The one that torments me most is the vision of seeing my comrad fall from flight in pain. The humans to me ever since that day have been labeled evil for they did not shoot him with a weapon they used dark magic that day to gain control of this abundant land. If I ever meet one such human that is not caught up in deep evil and who actually knows about what happened that day of great blood shed (that is how we always refer to it for its true name is stooped in evil and we would fall lame if anyone in our presence uttered this name) may just be able to convince that they are not all bad.
In my case and in my many years of living I have never met such a person in this land that I can now no longer leave.......