The world welcomed a new day and the sun rose and basked this one with its glow—and the rays of it were a fickle thing. Some would touch one of the land and bless it with spring, a warm and bountiful warmth that certained harvest. Others faced its harsh and drying heat, its inhabitants shielding under its stinging rays.
And there were those who received little, atop their lofty precipices of mountain and stone—the rays of the sun were blocked by dark clouds and even frostier winds. Last but not the least were those who received the sun's rays when it came to its end, seemingly of a summer's end when all the leaves match the colors of a setting sun.
The people who lived in this world see no reason for question—as the moon rose during the night, each inhabitant faced their own climatic environment.
A woman who had risen from her bed and stared out the window, taking note of the golden rays of the sun and found it odd that it was so huge.
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