I left home when I was 16. My mother had fallen grievously ill and one night my father was out smoking his pipe and he saw a silver bird alight in the holly tree above him.

It told him the only cure was to find the Root of Life, located on the other side of the world.

He called the four of us into the kitchen and said, “My children, you being young and healthy, the lights of my waning years, I bear a heavy weight in my chest for I fear I have to send you out into the world. You well know that your mother is ill, that the pall of death is cast over her. This night I have received a message from on high that her salvation may be found on the other side of the earth.”

He took my brother aside and spoke to him first. I did not hear what he said, or what he handed to my brother.

After their conversation, my father sent him to the North.

I, the second child, spoke with my father next. He bequeathed to me a knife, given to him by his uncle. He told me it had properties that would help me on my journey. He sent me to the South.

Looking back at the house from the bottom on the hill, I saw him speak to the second youngest and send her to the West. The youngest he sent to the East.

This is the beginning of the story. Write the next part and post the link to this post with it, then post the link to your part as a comment and we’ll keep this going. Or you can follow whatever links already exist and add onto those threads of narration! Rules: Post a picture with your part of the story (Creative Commons, plz) and please narrate in first person.