I like to sit on the rock, staring at the Wall of the World. Watching the condensation bring our valuable water down to the earth, and watch the Gods beyond the transparent Wall of the World. In this small world they created for us, there are four plants, four territories and four people. Or so the legends say.
I belong to the Land of the Duilleog. The plant of my land has very large and wide leaf blades. We live on those, seldomly coming down to the ground. I like to come down often. To bury my feet in the soft and humid earth of life, staring at the Gods through the wall as they extinguish the world’s lights, is what brings me peace. But as darkness settles, it’s time to get back.
I’m supposed to get married at first light tomorrow. I don’t want to, but as the child of the chiefs, I don’t have a choice. I feel trapped. I look at the bracelet my promised one offered me. It’s made from part of the sacred leaves we eat, dress, and where we sleep. It’s cut into pieces and woven traditionally. It’s perfect. Too perfect. This is not what I want.
When I was a child, I heard stories of other people. The people of Dearg and their very strange red leaves. They’re supposed to be great climbers that sleep on the ground. They’re supposed to be the greatest healers in the world, but just because they’re also known to be hostile and individualistic, requiring that they possess said abilities. The people of Bán, who live in the opposite quarter of Dearg. They’re told to have white leaves, climb well, and sleep on the ground. They are individualistic but live in small communities that fight each other often, rather than individuals that look after themselves. The people of Bán and Dearg are constantly fighting. My people consider them barbaric. On the opposite side of the world from us are the people of Talamh. Their plant has small leaves and no branches, as the leaves grow directly from the short stems, so they live exclusively on the ground, and they’re told to move erratically to these strange sounds they produce. They bear no clothes and live as a unit without social hierarchy. My people call them savages, but I don’t like to believe in legends. Legends about us say how the people of Duilleog possess a great sense of hierarchy that keeps everything in order and that we’re most civil because we appreciate culture, history and poetry. But how can we be civil if everyone seems miserable while constantly trying to go up the hierarchy by whatever means necessary?
I need to find a way to change things. But for that, I need to escape. And if the world is inescapable, as the great wall extends far up beyond anyone can climb, then I need to escape to other territories. Maybe the other quarters can teach me something of enough value to incorporate into my tribe. I’d love to. But it’s maybe too risky a journey.
My main interest is the people of Talamh. They are called savages, but at the same time, they seem to be the freest and happiest of all people, simply because there appear to be no rules or hierarchy to climb up among them. Though I’m on the very top of mine, I can clearly say I’m as happy as the people at the bottom of it. And I’m very unhappy.
As I arrive at the centre of the Village, atop the tallest and widest leaf, I’m greeted with cheer as everyone welcomes me respectfully. I sit around the fire, in my rightful place, between my parents and my promised one. The fungi dinner is served to us by our lessers. I adjust my tunic, made of woven leaf stripes that cover me, from under my arms to my ankles, in a shade of green that symbolizes my status as high in the pyramid. Since the green colour of our clothing only lasts a few days, all my clothes are brand new, and that’s reserved for the top ones. The colours of everyone else’s garments are fading tones of green that turn into yellow and brown in the lowest classes. We all eat in silence, without exchanging looks with the lessers and even amongst ourselves. Tonight is the pre-ceremony of my wedding.
After dinner, we share poetry and discuss philosophy amongst the top classes while the lessers listen. This system disgusts me.
As I lay on my designated spot of my designated leaf, I can’t sleep. I look around as I sit while everyone else has succumbed to the land of dreams. But I haven’t. I look up at the sky, where the wall extends above us, and I see a reflection on it. The gods have lit a dim distant light. I see their reflection. I see their giant hands; I see them embracing. I take it as a sign. A sign that we should be embracing each other. Not making others feel less than ourselves.
Enough.
I get up. I tip-toe my way into another leaf and slide down onto the soft, humid soil that is always the same. And for the first time in my life, I run. I disobey all the rules, and I run. I am a part of the world, created by the Gods that watch us and don’t intervene. They observe. But they don’t help further than creating, so if I want to help change the world, I have to follow their lead and create that change!
It takes me a few hours before the Gods bring the light as suddenly as they extinguished it. My eyes adjust to the brightness. As I look around, I see. The red leaves on the right, the white striped leaves on the left. The small leafed bushes in front, and behind me, the last of the large leaves. The brown circle that encloses the Wall of the World stares at me as I look up. I’m in the centre. I’m in the centre of the world, and no one is to be seen around me.
 I hear a noise.
Before I know it, someone grabs me, pushing me onto the soft humid ground. 
“Who are you, stranger?”
“My name is Ar; I’m a Duilleog scholar. I mean no harm.” - I say, trying to remain calm, as I sense a sharp stone against my neck. They tie my arms together and only then reveal themselves in front of me. It’s a teenager wearing the special red leaves characteristic of Dearg, but this person is half naked compared to me. They bear an object in the shape of an arch with a string connecting the edges. Some sticks are in a basket on their back. Interesting. That must be a weapon. They’re foretold to bear those at all times. Their face shows me confusion. 
“A scholar, you say? I hear by the legends that your people take importance in their dress. I see you wear bright green leaves. Your clothes must be new. You’re not just any scholar, are you?”
Ah, as I suspected, they are not less intelligent.
“No. But I do not wish to represent my people in any way. Here, I am just a scholar to study to what extent the legends are true.” 
They look at me contemplatively. 
“I’ll take you as a prisoner. It’s too dangerous to let you free, knowing you’re a high Duilleoger.”
“I’ll accept that. What’s your name?”
“I’m Yzet. Can you walk?”
They help me up.
“I can.”
They hold my ties and walk with me through the red forest. I had seen red before, as I like to see the gods beyond the wall, but I had never seen this much red. It’s beautiful. The green edges, with red interiors of the leaves, make the light come through seem red as well, in a very colourful sight... 

To be continued.