Anuraghtam
Stories were told of 'summer' and of the distant 'sun', by their elders. Myths of beings with fire in theirs jaws and death in their claws. Stories upon stories, legends upon legends piled up, like snow in their fields. Were they just stories? Were they just myths? No one knew, these elders? they were senile, speaking of these as seen yet unseen.
Sitting on the crags of reality these old men spoke. They were liars the young men would say or were they. The young people who had never seen the sun, in these dark and cold lands, could not believe. Except for one. One who believed.