Our young are molded from the essence of nature. From the grains of the field, to the sacrificial blood of the fiery red of the wilderness. We gently conform them for society's use.
When our young reach a certain age, they must go through a excruciating rite of passage. If they are to overcome the challenges, they must be well prepped beforehand.
The elders must keep a watchful eye on the young as they endure the hellfire, for if they are consumed by the hellfire their remains must be discarded in a most disgraceful manner.
Once they have made it through the challenges, they are given a short rest before their fate is decided. With a blade molded in the shape of the sun, they are marked as ready for their next stage of life.
No long burning to the touch, they are sent out on gilded sleds, supported on the arms of the elders.
Once they reach their destination, a camp of foreign elders meet them with cries of delight. Little do they know, their short time on this Earth is coming to a close.
With a delighted smile on an outstretched arm, the foreign elders reach for their piece. Their pained cries are smothered by the delighted sighs of the foreign elders. With a final breath, their life has been extinguished. Their purpose has been served.
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*Finger guns* *Italian accent* It was pizza the whole time!
