Everyone remembers the day the cloudmaker fell. Some say he looked like one of us. Others recall his powers and strange speech. Still others insist he was nothing but a wanderer from another tribe. Everyone remembers the day the cloudmaker fell.
But I alone remember the day he left.
A group of tribes living in the cratered remains of a world -- trapped and isolated from the modern world still growing around them, just outside the craters.
Maybe too like my Firefly Stars, but maybe not. Miyazake can tell the same story twice, and Stephen Douglas. Why not me?
The sound of the cloudmakers was a call to the fields. We wanted them to see us working hard, so they would bless us with the falling waters.