The Gardenkeeper's Daughters

Preface

To whom it may concern-

I, Natrina, original Keeper of Love and ruler (for whatever that position is worth) of Natrina's Forest, am finally done with miracles. That is not to say that I do not believe in them- after all, I have lived longer than any other living being aside from the Princess herself. I have seen the Obsidians, the demons that once ravaged our world, fall from their throne. I have loved and been loved; I have seen others love, have families, and grow old. I have seen the Princess return from death (many times, sixty three to be exact). One would say I have seen my fair share of miracles.

My sole point is that we can no longer rely upon them.

When the Princess dies, I can guarantee that this will be her last death. Chaos will break out across Dreamland in days. Canid-central society may dissolve into anarchy within a month. The Fauna, elusive timewatchers that they are, have seen many timelines where this is the case, though they refuse to interfere any further.

Few know that there was a time when Dreamland's queen was not the shell of a goddess (as much as it hurts to call my dear friend a shell). We are pack animals by nature, so naturally there was an alpha, but it would be an overstatement to call what we had back then a united nation. Message carriers would pass news to and from the queen through a series of draining teleportations. Homes made of wood and stone were common, and they were more like dens than the houses we know today. Lifespans were far shorter and the other Sentient species, our non-Canine brethren, were either nonexistent or shunted to the sides of society. There are many atrocities our species is only beginning to answer for.

Yet somehow, in this simpler time, there existed a kind of independence that is rare in the Dreamland of today. We are all waiting around for our fate to catch up to us, and in this time where we are being lead slowly to the valley of death, no one has thought to turn around and go the other way.

Indeed, it goes against our nature. We need a pack. We need a family.

I will not deny that in my own time, I never travelled alone. My family was small, a ragtag gang of sorts, but we stared death in the eye and refused to take fate as it was given to us.

I can not deny that it did not always turn out the way we could have liked. Myths are not stories to fulfill our fantasies, but to sharpen our minds and teach us about the things we can not see.

I hope to share my myth, the real version of what happened to my pack and I all those years ago.

This is the story of the Gardenkeeper's Daughters.