The Travels of Korran

   Once upon a time, in ancient China, there lived two siblings, brother and sister, dwelling in a small hut which was situated in a valley rimmed by outstretching forests. The brother was the younger of the two by six years and his name was Korran. His sister's name was Chai. They lived alone, for their woodsman father had been killed fighting for the most local samurai lord against the samurai lord's rivals when Korran was eight years old, and their mother soon followed their father to the grave from sickness. Their well-to-do, far off relatives refused to take them in, claiming that the orphans of a commoner, considering their ragged lifestyle, were not in much worse circumstances and should be able to take care of themselves. Thus, Korran and Chai lived alone, and saw very little of the outside world except for what could be seen on their weekly trips to a nearby village. 

   So the years passed as Korran and Chai went about their daily lives gathering wood and herbs, selling and buying goods at the village marketplace, and listening to the local gossip, without much adventure or danger. These circumstances affected the siblings in very different ways. For Chai longed to leave their home and go out into the unknown world, where she might have to escape from bandits or break the spell on an enchanted prince- or, in any case, at least do something that was more exciting that carrying a small basket of berries to the village. Korran grew to fear going into the woods, traveling down the road to market, or doing any sort of activity that drew him more than a mile from the hut. As a result, he became very attached to home and felt safest when inside the hut. Thus at night, while Chai stared out of a window next to her bed and desperately tried to imagine all the possible things, people, and places in the woods or even beyond, Korran lay in his bed covering his head with a blanket and desperately tried not to imagine all the possible things, people, and places beyond or even in the woods themselves.

    And so their lives continued, until Korran's eleventh birthday.On the afternoon of that day, Korran returned from the village with herbs and a few sweet cakes to eat for dinner: that was how he and Chai celebrated special events such as birthdays. As the hut came within his sight, he spotted a tall, black horse grazing outside it. The horse was beautiful with muscular legs, a graceful neck, and a long mane and tail. On the horse's back was strapped the most elegant saddle Korran had ever seen: the saddle was made of fresh, supple leather, but with pieces of ivory and polished black stone interwoven in it. Korran paused, puzzled. They never had visitors even from the village, much less from the nobility (for whoever was riding such a horse with such furnishings had to be of noble birth). He scurried to the door of the hut and opened it. "Hello?" he called, peeking in.
   In the hut, there was only one other room beside the bedrooms which served as kitchen, living room, and play-room. In the middle of this room, there was only one table. At this table sat Chai with a young man: the most handsome man Korran had ever seen. He had an elegant, fine-featured face, long, black hair,and sinewy, well-knit limbs; his clothes, though dusty from traveling, seemed dazzling on him.When he turned to look at Korran, there was a mischievous smile on his face and one of his eyebrows slanted down teasingly. But there was something wrong in his eyes...a sort of cold, calculating contempt. An ache of uneasiness started to grow in Korran's stomach.
   "Hello, Korran," snapped Chai, "finally got back from dawdling on the road, eh? Taizo, meet my child brother." Korran stared at Chai. She had never spoken to him like that before. And she was looking at him the same way she looked at strangers in the marketplace who interrupted while she was bargaining - like she wanted to drive them off with a stick.