A long long time ago, at the side of a mountain, a young girl sat overlooking the lands bellow. There, she witnessed villagers frolicking about. Young children played tag while adults went on dates. The young girl felt lonely.

One day, the lone girl had a brilliant idea. If there were no friends around, why not make some? So, she took to carving heads of stone into the mountainside, but when she tried to chat with them, she received no response. The vessels of stone were empty, with neither soul nor emotion. Overcome with sadness, she wept, her sobs echoing through the alley.

Down in the village, the echoing cries rattled the people to the bone. Day in and day out, the ever-present pained voice eventually drove the people mad. The villagers began tearing at themselves and one another, anything to drown out the waves of sorrow emitting from the cliff-sides. The little girl looked on in horror, and knew she had to do something.

She wandered down to the village, meeting the insane gazes of the valleyfolk. They did not take kindly to the gleaming stranger. With sorrow and pity in her heart for the poor victims of her anguish, she dispatched of them all, taking their souls back to the mountain. There, they would be born anew. Hatched from rock, the edges of insanity grinded off of them.

They would be her playmates. Her pebbles. Us.