If by some chance the great Golden Needle was low on flowers, he would send carrier pigeons to the Moka region to the south, where the gentle people of the Moka Slow region farmed the flowers that were in demand. It was a gentle farm community that was founded in the year Yak-5241. The village consisted of grass huts and a people who were golden-tanned. They worshiped the sun and all of its favors. Superstition was the calling of this most gentle people.
There was always a constant waiting for the pigeon of the great Golden Needle. This meant that they would be able to sell their produce and buy from the local tradesman. A constant guard was kept over the skies looking for the pigeon of the great Grand Needle.
The flight took the better part of one moon and three sunrises. When the pigeon did arrive, there was the instant notification of the Moka chief. The Moka chief would gather the people of his community. They would listen to the recital of the prayers of thanksgiving.. To finish the prayer, the Grand Moka would take a part of the flowers and eat them. Then he would climb upon the great rock of judgment and command. There he would sit for the better part of many sunrises. He would just think of the great arrival of the pigeon. This always brought the happiness of the people for the better part of the year. Now there would be song and merry making.
TheMoka people would gather once a month at the great rock. There, they would listen to the dreams of the Grand Moka. He would sit for hours and hours and dream the dreams of dreams. Listen to the sky talk to the earth. Hear the holy words of the infinite sky. There, the wind would pass by the leaves of the tree. It seemed to the people that he was in total communication with all that surrounded him. Even the birds of the air would perch upon his shoulder. They would sing the very special song of the valley.
At times, the pigeon of the other distant country would land upon the dead tree. It would bring the omen of the sacred trust. It was always bad times when the bird arrived. The people would be sent into a state of fright. Even the branches that the pigeon landed on would turn to a dark color.
There were many trees that were of a blackened color. The fury of the fighting in the past had left its toll upon the land and the people. The great bird had picked the same tree all the time to rest upon. When the old Grand Moka saw the bird, he would shoo him away. He always said, " The bird is the omen of death and war in the land".
With a great effort, the Grand Moka again shooed the bird away. He knew that the bird would listen to the words of his command. Power and authority was one thing the Grand Moka possessed. He knew the bird would stay at station with a simple command. Around the birds ankle was the golden holder of the message. It was sent by the great Needle of the distant land. It could only mean that there was trouble, or that there was need of more flowers. With a slow, quivering hand, the Grand Moka unleashed the golden holder. Inside there was no message, only the empty retainer that stared the Grand Moka in the eye and brain.
The people of the Moka country had heard of the great Grand Needle of the distant land. They had heard rumors and stories how he, the Golden Needle, had control of the land and the people under him. They were terrible stories that would keep the gentle people of the Moka land at bay. They had a child-like fear of the great Grand Needle from some magical distant land. All that was really known was that he had the power and control over the silver Needle people.
It was said that the needle people would make war on the Wooden people. The Wooden people would, in return, make war on the Needle people.
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