In the Valley of the Dragons, the sun was shrouded in mist. It rolled down the mountains, swayed in from the sea and mingled lightly over the gurgling river. In the paddy fields, that criss-crossed the flood plain, the water rippled as the first rice crop of the year was planted, carefully by hand. Further upon the wild slopes of Mount Onaka, which was not, in fact, a mountain but a volcano that had lain dormant for two hundred years, but occasionally let out a growl that sounded like the grumbling of a stomach, stood the small village of Kasa. The village was given this name because of the five hundred year old oak tree that grew tall and strong next to the village, it had survived two large eruptions and many smaller ones and now spent its retirement, keeping the village dry, in the rich volcanic soil on the steep slopes.

The mist lay low in the village and people gradually made there way up Mount Onaka to the shrine of the goddess of the morning, Asa. The shrine, that had held its place on the mountain for one hundred and twenty years, was the most intoxicating sight in the valley. It rose thirty feet from the ground and was gold leaf the entire height, length and breadth of the building. Two huge columns stood either side of the entrance arch; two red dragons lay at the foot of each column. Their jade eyes fixed in an icy glare. Men and women entered the great building. Children stopped at the entrance and dug the incense sticks they carried into the dirt so the temple was filled with the aromatic smells of jasmine and lotus flowers.

Then the children could return to the village, this was their favourite time of the week, where they could have a whole afternoon to themselves, except for the old watchman on the hill. The boys ran down to the river and jumped into the small junkets that they had spent winter building on the Black river. The girls ran into the forest and played amongst the trees as nimbly as mountain monkeys. 

One of the girls slipped away from the crowd and ran to the edge of the birch forest where she turned towards the sea and ran. She wore a red tunic that had faded and frayed with time. Her hair was loosely knotted in a bun; her hands were small, her skin dark and her face soft inset with sudden blue eyes. Something fell from above, it growled viciously, she screamed and backed into a tree, she crouched and screamed, clasped her hands over her head and shook with terror.