I knew that a society of little winged creatures lived under the potted plants. But I didn't know that they were lethal and most unattractive when deployed. I didn't know until that fateful day in April when it all came tumbling down. Once disaster struck, only the faithless went on to other destinies. The faithful were kept, protected among the deities they had created. The roaming tribe came to be known as the misdirected, but proudly accepted that label , so long had it been part of folklore.
And as long as the Misdirected lead, the longer the trail to otherworldliness would become.