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In a field of gold rests a old oak tree. Here memories were crafted, friendships forged, and stories told. Here a boy was born, but he was not born like any other child. He was born from the watchful eye of the sky and the roots of the wise oak itself. Unlike other children, he was not able to sense things at birth. He was not able to see, hear, smell, or taste. Instead he laid idle under the oak tree until he learned. The oak tree slowly taught the boy through touch, and in time, he became familiar with the rest of his senses was able to become like any other child.
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