And all those gathered on the Plain of Saarkand breathed a sigh of relief as one.
For as they looked to the East, the first rays of the New Sun arose over the hill that was called The Old Maid’s breast.
The harsh days of the cold season were past until the dark days arrived once more, as ordained by the Spirits of Earth and Sky.
With the rising of the sun the dark shadow of the beast, which the more superstitious among them had perceived as Kerhaan, the Dragon of Darkness, began to fade and crumble into glowing silver clouds. Soon to fall as life-giving rain on the high mountains. The rivers would flow freely once more down to the barren plain.
So would begin the new life phase.
Encouraged by the daily, ever-rising heat of the sun and the watering of the beast’s blood the farmers could once more begin the tilling of the earth and the sowing of the seed.
The Elders would continue to offer the sacrifice to the Ancestors and if they were not displeased once more would they fill the grain stores and feed their flocks.
Life for all would be good again.
When the pen takes control. 
Possibly not too far from the turth in many societies, Bob.
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