Against the wishes of many of my people, we have helped the strange ones have emerged from the horizon. These odd people floundered upon the rocky shores when they landed, their already pale bodies turning paler as they slowly started to die out.
The village has offered these strange people from the sea our help and our ways. We have taught them how to adapt to our home as they are seemingly incapable of nurturing the gods beneath their feet. Indeed, it seems as though these people do not realize the promise between the land and the people.
They are cold in nature and apparel, much like the god they worship. They are harsh and unforgiving, their clothes joyless and showing nothing of the individual. They are alone, untrusting of others, including my tribe, even when they offer help. It is like their god. He is alone, with his other two manifestations by his side. Though there may be two, it is like looking in a mirror: they are all the same in the end, and he is the only one in his own world.
I think my village will come to regret trusting these foreigners in the end. They will harm us, I am sure of it. They care not for our help and view us as less than they. I know we shall regret it.
I certainly do.
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