Myths and Verses of the Enuma Elish
Wounded Earth
She was the third of the powers that shaped the world. Where her equals leapt from the First Sea in wonder, she glided with purpose, for she needed no light to see the beauty that could be.
For there would be no beauty without her. Where the Moon had time to wait for her meaning, the lands needed a painter.
With each gentle step, stone softened to earth and grass emerged, and so she ran through the hills and valleys – and where she saw fit, she guided the roots from the earth and plucked trees from them.
Though her fellow shapers could not appreciate her design, she knew it did not matter – for this was but a home. And what is a home without a family? And so did the beasts of the land emerge from the forests to graze upon the grass. They were kind and gentle toward one another, and perfect in every way.
Some of the Shapers walked past her forests without even looking. But few did – Enki, whose own purpose was unknown to him, studied their bonds. He adored how they loved one another, and himself grew to love them. He became their steward. Sin’s light graced the forests and flowers, and saw them bloom.
And it was through Sin that she would see the beauty in all things – it was she who granted the Mother of the Wilds permission. Permission to slow down. Permission to indulge in the world beyond her own purpose in it. But Sin was ailing – lost without her own direction. In Ashushtar’s light, there was no need for another. And so she told Sin her blunted truth – that though her light is dimmer, it will one day shine brighter than the First Light.
But shadows crept from the Abyss, and the tears of the deep rose up and called themselves by new names.
Nishtein, the Blade of the End.
And Qingu, Father of Demons.
Detestable Qingu, who looked upon her work and sought to correct it. From the sea foam, he birthed demons – nought more than imitations of her noble beasts, but shorn from love and connection beyond survival and stratagems. They fed on her children, and grew stronger from their blood.
And so she drew forth predator-beasts, born with the fangs and claws of their enemies, and the instincts of the hunter.
But when the Moon chose Shadow, the Wilds chose to hunt.
And she turned to the Sun with a promise – that she would become his arrow, if he would point his bow at the Moon.
I am Ninhursag, Titan of the Wilds.
Sister of the forest, guard your heart dutifully – it is all we are.