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You stand at the entrance of an old stone building.

Vines, crisscross along the outer walls.

No one has been here for a long time, you think. You approach the set of enormous double doors

at the entrance. The finely polished bohagini seems more ancient than time itself.

The panels of the doors are covered from top to bottom, in carvings of human exploration

and in leather. You reach for the tarnished brass handle and pause briefly as your eyes are

drawn to the panel near your hand. A carved scene scrolls out across the wood from left to right.

Men wearing long feathered hats and thick pison hides,

crouch low in the grass. Boas at the ready as a herd of bison graces nearby.

As the scene continues, the men are crossing a river in little round boats like teacups

carving in the water. Across the river is a field of mixed crops. Women with long dresses and

braided hair are at work loading the harvest on small sleds.

Beyond the field, a village sits on a flat rise, a ditch and wall in circle it.

Instead of houses, there are many mounds of earth packed tightly together.

Your fingers glide over the smooth edges of the carving. With a push on the door handle,

the doors swings open gently with a soft creek. You pass through the doorway into the foyer of a

resplendent library. The floor is tiled in green and white marble and polished to a shining finish.

...