In eons past, early man worshiped gods far removed from those of civilized men. Many of them are dead or lost to time, forgotten by
those whose belief once birthed them into being, thrown to the wayside once mankind grew tired of them like a child abandoning their toys.
Some of those gods were made of more hardy stuff. Perhaps they were more universal, a more general concept that men paid loyalty to even if they
forgot their names. Even so, those old gods slowly died or faded away as new ones, more civilized ones, took their place. But even so, some of
those ancient creatures still tread old holy sites and ancient forests, like ghosts of mankind's once wild past.
her name is long forgotten, even by her. Once she was the chief goddess of an ancient pantheon, she bathed in the adoration and love of early
man, blessing their children, their crops, their cattle. Her existence is now reduced to that of a common beast, stalking deer and elk in the
forests she once ruled, furtively hiding from the sight of hunters for fear of their steel arrows and spears. She cries herself to sleep at night
in deep dark caves, furtively remembering those old days when men would offer her parts of their kills, when children played in her mane, and
when women braided her hair. Now her hair goes unwashed as she lacks hands, briars stick in her mane, and her once gloriously flowing locks pick
up branches that she can only paw at with her wings. Those wings, often cramped for lack of use- she dares not soar above the trees as she once
did, for fear of being spotted and filled with arrows by terrified men.
Sometimes, her sadness turns to anger and she strikes out at those men and women who forgot her, snatching them as they walk brazenly through what were
once her forests. This of course leads to guilt, which brings her to make offerings to those men who once made offerings to her, a deer there, creating
a trail through the underbrush there, arrows scratched into bark to lead to the bedding grounds of deer. She is a strange creature, one of sorrow,
one of love, and one of hate. The men who live near her forests know of her, though they have never laid eyes on her. They call her Utrata- The Lost.
