beautiful.

Here's the whole prologue. By the way, I made a typo in the previous post–in paragraph six, it's supposed to say "dirty, tearstained face" not "dirty, tearstained face". Whoops.

Also, the prologue is kind of vague but the rest of the story won't be. I think. I'll be focusing on the characters you've made so I'll get into them more.  

Prologue

In Mirileth, a small town on the edge of the Eastern Sea, the occupants of the town woke in the early hours of the morning to the sound of a little boy running through the streets, wailing.

He looked to be about six, although it was hard to tell in the darkness. He had rumpled brown hair and was barefoot, his feet slapping against the rounded cobblestones of the street. As the boy ran by, windows popped open in the houses lining the street and sleepy-eyed people stuck their heads out to see what the commotion was.

The sun was just beginning to edge over the horizon when the boy stopped at a tall, imposing grey house with an orange sign over the door at the corner of a crossroads. He stood there for a moment, attempting hopelessly to wipe his tears, then reached up and banged his hand on the wooden door. Almost immediately it opened, a tall, elderly man in a nightcap stepping out.

The boy looked up despairingly at him. 'Mr. Heric, sir, it's–it's my sister, she's–she's…" He sniffed and started crying again.

The man lifted him up. "Hm. Carran, is it? I remember you. What's wrong with your sister Jessica?"

The small boy lifted his dirty, tearstained face and managed one word. "D-dead!"

The old man set him down abruptly, pressing his lips together, then spoke. "Carran, run back to your mother. Tell her I'll be there in two, three minutes."

He watched the brown head disappear down the street as the warm rays of the sun warmed his shoulders. "But it wasn't time for Jessica's leaf to fall," he muttered to himself. "She was perfectly healthy, perfectly fine…." His voice trembled and he fell silent.

By late morning, a crowd had gathered in the center of the town. What were they gathered around?

A tree.

Called the Mother Tree, it had stood in the exact center of Mirileth for too many generations to count. Its branches stretched up and out for miles around, and the townspeople believed that the branches reached all the way up to Heaven and the spirits used it as their pathway to earth. The tree's shaggy-barked trunk was too wide for several people to join hands and reach around it. Simply put, the Tree was a giant.

The gigantic, many-colored leaves–orange, yellow, green, blue, red, purple, and pink–that were attached to its branches each stood for a life. The colors of the leaves indicated what clan you were in and what skills you would have–the orange leaf stood for wisdom and learning, the yellow for empathy, the green for skills in nature, the blue for skills in water, red for skills in combat, purple for creativity, and pink was the wild card. Pink-leaved people could have talents in acting or gymnastics or really anything. Each clan had an Elder that was the leader of their clan, who met in the Council of Elders with the rest of the clan leaders to govern Mirileth. The old man, Jethram Heric, was one of these. He was the Elder of the Orange Clan, old and wise and the chief of the Elders.

Up until this morning, the villagers had thought nothing could dislodge the leaves, not humans or wind or rain. When a person died, their leaf would fall. And when a baby was born, a leaf would sprout and grow.

And yet, the girl Jessica's leaf had fallen without any reason to–she had been healthy and strong, and her family had said that she didn't show signs of being sick up until the time she had stumbled and fallen, and died.

Jethram Heric walked forward to stand next to the Tree, and picked up the large blue leaf–Jessica's leaf–that had landed on the ground. The townspeople had given it a wide space and moved back further as he held it in his hands. It was already decomposing.

A bald, short man with a moustache, dressed in pale green robes that framed his round figure, stepped forward. "Make way, please. Make way for Eshra." The crowd parted and let him through. Eshra Coll was the Elder of the Green clan, come to inspect the tree.

Eshra took the leaf from Jethram Heric's hands and examined it carefully, his nose almost brushing the leaf's surface. Then, swiftly, he set it down and ran his hands over the shaggy trunk. He put his ear to the bark and tapped the tree with his hand, listening for a moment.

He tipped his head back and looked at the leaves far above his head, the townspeople following his gaze. Many of the leaves had small black spots disfiguring them.

Eshra spun on his heel and whispered to Jethram for a minute, who bent his grey head as he listened so no one could see his eyes. Then Eshra disappeared back into the crowd.

Jethram turned in a full circle, looking at the crowds of anxious people surrounding him.

"Friends, what Eshra has told me is that the Tree seems to be suffering from some sort of disease. The black spots you see on the leaves are marks of it. Eshra has no idea what it is but he thinks it's weakening the stems of the leaves and making them liable to fall. And you know that if your leaf falls, you die.

"If the illness effects your leaf, you will become sick. It will either work swiftly or very slowly. I am very sorry to tell you that until we have a cure, every single one of you is in great danger."

Cool, but yikes! Also, poor little girl….

hmm. interesting.

Nice writing!

I've finished the first chapter and I'll type it onto the computer and therefore post it soon.

That was really good Caretaker! Can't wait to read more!