The Wrath of Komachi
One peaceful afternoon, Deep in the sacred valleys, the peace of the ancient forest was shattered by a low rumble that began to vibrate through the damp soil. The song of the forest was laced with a low, metallic vibration that made the soles of her bare feet ache.
The trembling grew into a deafening roar as a fleet of heavy logging trucks and yellow bulldozers of Komachi’s logging crew rumbled down a newly cut dirt road, tearing through the undergrowth. Their engines roared like metal beasts.
Taynara stood at the edge of the clearing, her heart hammering against her ribs. She watched as a massive grandmother tree—one that had stood for three centuries—groan and crash to the red earth. The soil beneath her feet quaked.
A soft hand gently touched her shoulder. “They do not know what they break,” a quiet voice spoke behind her.
Taynara turned to see her grandfather, his eyes reflecting the deep green of the canopy. He stood, radiating a soft, comforting warmth.
“Grandfather,” Taynara whispered, tears hot in her eyes. “They are destroying everything. The animals are fleeing. The soil is bleeding. I am too small to stop them. I am afraid!”
The old man knelt, placing a hand over her chest, right over her racing heart. “Fear is a wild storm, little one. But beneath the storm, there is a quiet center. You must find it to save our people and the forest.”
She turned and responded with confusion– “Save our people? Save the forest?”
Later that day, the Iwari decided to confront the loggers and stop the madness.
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By Ren Wilder
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