There weren't many of us left.
How many? That, right there, is an excellent question. I'm sure that someone somewhere knows how many. I couldn't tell you. All I know is that we are numbered and the number isn't high.
I think once upon a time our society thrived or, at the very least, expected to thrive. We had a good relationship with the large world around us, one that was based on mutually beneficial arrangements. I could remember a time when food was plentiful, soft fabrics adorned our bodies, and warm hands transported us. A weeks journey could be done in seconds. Ah yes, those were the glory days. They were also a foggy memory for me. I had been very young when those gentle hands became cruel and harsh, when tender grasps became calloused grips.
Finding sanctuary had been the hardest. We were quite tiny beings in a rather large world controlled by giants. They seemed like giants to us at least, towering over our small villages as though they were trees surrounding an anthill. The