One summer, the Great Drought hit. For months, not a single drop of rain fell.
The were the first to suffer. Without rain, their high gardens withered. They cried out for water, but the Root-Tenders, bitter from years of being ignored, hoarded the deep-well reserves for themselves. "You have the sun," the Root-Tenders shouted up. "Drink that." One summer, the Great Drought hit
"The tree is dying because we have become separate branches," she shouted. "The roots cannot drink if the leaves do not shade the ground. The leaves cannot grow if the roots do not send up water. And none of us have a home if the trunk collapses." Desperation finally broke the pride of the guilds. Without rain, their high gardens withered
They were neighbors, but they were not one. The Leaf-Watchers looked down on the "mud-stained" Root-Tenders, and the Root-Tenders resented the "flighty" Leaf-Watchers. The Trunk-Keepers simply stayed in the middle, closing their shutters to the bickering. "Drink that
The used their silk-weaving skills to create massive funnel-nets, stretching them across the highest peaks to catch the morning mist—moisture too thin for a single person, but massive when gathered together.