In the beginning there were only Dreams and in the end there shall be only Nightmares. What is Written can in no way be the Future, only the Past. The Dreaming of Fredericton has been filled with much joy and with much sorrow.
Before the English settled, even before the Natives had crossed the Bering Straight into North America, the Dreaming of Fredericton was a place of pure wyld magic. It was a haven for the Fae, a sacred place for the Dragons which Dreamed the world.
When the Micmac and Maliseet tribes settled along the banks of the River things did not change much, but with them came a different type of Fae. These Fae who arrived appreciated the land and all who dwelled there. They harmed no chimera and neither were they harmed. Even the mighty Dragons were at peace with them. In this time of great peace the Near Dreaming was warm and Spring-like, without the bitter winds and snowstorms caused by the present Queen's cold heart.
The fae who came brought with them many dreams and using these dreams they created a brillant Lodge in the middle of a Glade. The Lodge was a thing of wonder, for it had been constructed out of living trees whose spirits and blended their branches and mighty trunks together to construct a Freehold at the sight of which even the mightiest Sidhe would have been humbled. The balefire burned brightly needing nothing to fuel it and all who came there were happy.
From amongst their midst the Fae chose a leader, a just Fae named White Feather - for a white raven had foretold his birth. He was a wise man and along with his wife Still Water the tribes of the Saint John River knew only peace. Their rule continued for many centuries, until the time of the Shattering. For Fae in those early times did not die but lived forever.
The shockwaves of Banality that rippled through the world effected even Fredericton's Fae. Dragons quivered and hid deep in their caves while the Fae ran for cover in the deep Dreaming. The Mythic Age was coming to an end. Many of the True Fae fled for the deep Dreaming along with the chimerae, some took the gifts of children offered by their mortal dreamers and inhabited the bodies of the young, growing up and into the Nunnahi. Still Water and White Feather, however, refused to reside in the human children until all those who were fleeing were gone. They held open the great Trod as long as possible but before they could flee it was fractured by the Banality. Still Water died with the Trod as White Feather held her in his arms. His tears flowed like the mighty river and when she had faded all that was left was a tiny Pearl Heart that washed into the River with her life. The mighty trees that formed the Freehold bore him up to their highest branches and there he made himself one with his home and fell into a deep sleep.
Those who had chosen bodies to inhabit searched for the great Lodge for many many moons but could never find it through the thick Mists that hid it. It has been said that to get back to the Lodge one must follow the water past the great valley to the island where the white raven flies. Only one who understands both love and loss, and who can find the pearl heart may enter and re-awaken White Feather, who will rise again to bring forth a great peace to Fredericton.
Life went on, new changes and new bodies meant new lessons were to be learned. The Fae no longer immortal struggled to find themselves. When the first Eshu and Pooka entered Fredericton, the Nunnahi were waiting. Like their mortal friends they were trusting of the newcomers at first, despite the warnings those who gaurded Mother Earth gave about a great evil following. Boggans, Nockers, Redcaps, Trolls and Sluagh flocked to the growing settlement, and though some like the Pooka were tolerated for their respect of nature, the others were barely acknowledged.
As the white man forced the natives elsewhere the Nunnahi followed, leading their people further up-river, away from the waste and spoliage. But where their story ends another begins, for Fredericton was growing into a thriving place.