One morning lestones woke up and realized that they were a new race. Yesterday they definitely weren't. They even didn't think that in this world there is someone other than them.
Fario – a strong young Leston, with curly dark hair – was the first to wake up. He stretched in his entire two-meter growth, stood up and looked out of the window. And then it pierced a strange understanding. He was in a panic and began to wake his wife.
“Marie! Get up!” he shaked her shoulder.
A girl with brown hair opened her eyes reluctantly. A moment ago sleepy, they suddenly opened wide.
“Oh no!” she jumped. “Is that possible?”
But her husband really didn't understand it as well. They stared at each other.
Gradually, the village woke up and surprised cries could be heard from every house. Someone ran into the street, knocked on the door to the neighbors, but no one spoke a word. Lestones re-examined each other.
Fario went outside and looked around. Houses stood speechless.
Finally, they all began to catch up to the main square. From now on they are a new race, and they need to do something about it. They don’t know who lives outside Lestonia. And what if they are dangerous? But no one dared to ask this question. They just stood and waited for a strange sensation shatter.
Fario absently looked up. The morning was wonderful! Bright sunshine and not a single cloud in the sky. Previously, it was enough for happiness.
Marie timidly huddled with her husband and looked at the flower bed. Flowers used to bring her comfort, and she really wanted to calm down now.
Someone was riding through the streets and lestones anxiously turned to the noise. An old cart appeared and the driver severely slowed the horse. Leston from a neighboring village. Fario didn't know him personally, but many others began to greet him. He didn't respond to a greeting, and asked eagerly:
“And you too?”
Silence. It became clear that it's not a disease, and a strange awareness happened not only to them.
Nearby Fario shifted from foot to foot and muttered something to himself Zazhum, a short (just a meter eighty) and a somewhat plump luston. Loud exhaling, he walked decisively towards the center of the square and climbed a small pedestal designed for the local singer.
“Friends!” said Zazhum loudly and a few lestones near the pedestal flinched. “I understand your confusion! I'm a little scared myself too, but I'm not going to stand around without it either. We should admit that from now on we aren't the only race in the world.”
A rumble began to rise in the square, but Zazhum sharply raised his hand and all fell silent.
“As you know, earlier we didn't meet any of the other races and have no idea how do they look. But listen, we haven't met anyone for so long, why is someone going to show up right now?”
Everyone was silent.
“I propose to go home and to do usual things. And in order not to worry about anything, it is necessary to elect a ruler who will worry instead of you, and follow the news. Everything you need, he will hang out here, on the main square, so that everyone is up to date.”
“Ruler?” whispered Fario in surprise.
“And I offer my candidacy!” Zazhum stuck out his chest. “Does anyine want to try?” No one answered. “Well, then let’s vote!”
Fario abstained, but the majority of villagers, including his wife, raised their hands.
“Thank you!” Zazhum bowed. “Now you can easily disperse. I have a lot to think about.”
Villagers fun applauded cheerfully and began to disperse.
“He is right!” the visitor said. “We need to do the same thing.”
With these words he turned the cart and drove off.
Fario thoughtfully walked home. And the presence of the ruler worried him more than the morning awareness.
But one leston didn’t come to the square. He suffered from insomnia all night long. He tried everything! He drank lots of milk, counted all the possible animals and ran around the house. In the end, he was terribly tired, but still couldn't fall asleep.
Having judged that the best thing to do than to lie and feel sorry for himself, he went down to the cellar. It was time to make a permutation and re-registration of all cans and bottles. Sometimes it seemed to him that cherry jam disappears suspiciously fast. Could he, in a fit of thoughtfulness, devour it by himself?
He began with the most dusty instances. He wiped a huge bottle of cherry juice with a rag, sneezed and almost scared of his reflection in the curved glass. Blue eyes seemed to him like dark failures.