One house was a splendid house, set high on a sunny hill. It was grand in its earlier days. It reached high into the sky up to God. Inside, it was decorated with masterpieces of the most celebrated artists. This was the house of the Goodmen. They loved such things as art and God and space.

But in this time, the Goodmen had a crisis. They had used much of their space and much of the earth to venerate God and to make more room for themselves. They were giants, you see, these Goodmen, and as their family grew they took up quite a lot of room. They were also alchemists of a sort, these Goodmen. They worked every day at giant bubbling vats to create an elixir. This elixir was taken in liberal doses to make the Goodmen easy and happy.

And so, in this time, their house ran thick with the crowded heavy-walking of too many Goodmen. Yet they continued to grow, continued to venerate God, continued to love art, and continued, more than that, to make more and more elixir. The elixir was the force of the earth itself, and as they cultivated it, and as they made more, the earth around them, bit by bit, died. And so too did their house. Over the once glorious house, in this dark time, grew a ruin, grew a haze like sleepy eyes. And inside its walls squabbles turned to skirmishes. And the giant goodly Goodmen, the fathers and the brothers, the sisters and the mothers, upon this time, upon this place, the Goodmen fought.

The other house, in a distant neighbourhood, was rather more humble. It stretched artlessly across a great expanse of land – for their God was not in the heavens but in the Earth. And so they sustained themselves - in the glory and bounty and philosophy of the Earth. This was the house of the Running-Wilds. They loved such things as wilderness and animals and dreams.

Many of the Running-Wilds, especially the younger ones, talked to the animals that lived beside their house. And many of the Running-Wilds, even the older ones, would climb the giant trees, would tell stories by the clear endless sweep of the starry night, would swim in the pond beside their house. In this pond, you could see all the way to the bottom. And when the Running-Wilds dreamed, it was the same as the endless starry night, and it was the same as the pond. They could see all the way to the bottom. There were of course, as with any family, some squabbles among themselves. But they lived bravely from the earth and they lived – and yes, fought – with dignity. And so they continued for a long time. And so they very likely would have continued.

Until the Goodmen came. They came little by little, at first. They came, they said, in peace. They came, they said, to show them Christ. The Goodmen thought the Running-Wilds were godless. God was in the sky, of course. Where else could he be? God was a man. That God could be a bird or a bear or even the Earth seemed like nonsense and the Goodmen scoffed. But even a few giants were too many for the Running-Wilds who had never seen the likes of such creatures of God. Still, the Running-Wilds tried to be welcoming, as if spying some new bird or some new woodland creature alongside their house.

Soon many more came. They were looking for a new house, of course. Theirs was full and dying. And the Goodmen, they liked this new home. It was large. It was surrounded with the living, breathing earth and they could make much more of their elixir.

And when they made elixir, they offered it as a friend would to the Running-Wilds. It was strong stuff that made their hosts happy and forgetful. They drank its hearty delirium.

Soon, there were many Goodmen about. They walked heavy around the house of the Running-Wilds. They slept in their beds. They put up images of their god. They cut down trees. They scared away the animals. Before long there were more Goodmen than Running-Wilds.

There was not much of the House of the Running-Wilds left that was theirs. The Goodmen had flattened the trees. The Goodmen had sent away the woodland creatures. The Goodmen had removed or burned all that was the Running-Wilds. And when the Running-Wilds saw and when they understood, they were ashamed. And they drank more of the elixir to forget.

The Goodmen wanted to get rid of the Running-Wilds.

It was, sadly, very little work. The Goodmen were giants. The Running-Wilds were lost in their defeat and in the stupor of the Goodmen’s elixir. The Goodmen collected the Running-Wilds and sequestered them away in a small place where they were commanded to remain. It was far from the new House of Goodmen and for a long time the Running-Wilds were forgotten.

In their small place, the Running-Wilds were mostly silenced for a long time. They made drums to make noise, but far from anybody, they were whispers in the wind. They roared with the rage and grief of a mother bear who spies her cub-child dead but, kept small and kept far, it was the sound of a fire burning out. And the Running-Wilds stood still. And even when they dreamed now, it was no longer endless. They could no longer see to the bottom.

Time passed. The Running-Wilds struggled to survive, squeaking in their small space where they were kept, where they were meant to stand still tamely. Meanwhile, the Goodmen had sons. And their sons had sons. And their sons had sons. And in the days of the great-great-great-great-great-great grandsons of the Goodmen, a Royal Man went to the Running-Wilds. And he listened to them. And he saw. And he understood. And this Royal Man, a good man, wanted to give them something back. He went back to his family, to the Goodmen, and after much arguing, he convinced the Goodmen to let the Running-Wilds return to their home.

It was a great day for the Running-Wilds. On the eve of their release, they dreamed again, endless. When they were released from their small space, they came back. They came back happy. They came back hopeful. They came back with their heads high.

But when they returned to their former home, the pond was gone. What was left of it was black on the bottom. When they returned to their former home, the trees were gone. No birds could light on branches that were no longer there. When they returned, no woodland creatures welcomed them. There was no earth left to sustain them.