[ WP ] You are a beaver in the Hudson Bay area in the early 1600 's . The fur trade has just begun and you are both frightened and curious . Bonus points* for not letting the reader know the protaganist is a beaver !

I remember well how it was before. It used to be easy: You ’ d leave your home, move away from the area you ’ d known your entire life, away from your parents. You ’ d build a home of your own. Quiet. Right down on the water—the land was plentiful then. Eventually you ’ d find a companion. One who would share your home, bear your children. And the cycle would start again. 
 
 Occasionally something would happen that would disrupt things. A flood would sweep away homes, sometimes yours. There would be a fire and the available wood would dwindle and you ’ d have to move your family. Ones that you knew, neighbors, would go out and not come back, just disappear one day. Sometimes you ’ d hear the loud alarm from your neighbors, a bolt from the blue that warned of some nearing danger. But for the most part, life was simple, and luck was in our favor. 
 
 Then it changed. Then there was the fear and uncertainty. They came. 
 
 I remember well the first time I felt the fear. I was out gathering for my family when I came across the body. It was one of my neighbors, I ’ d recently had a loud fight with him, keeping him away from my wife whom he sought to draw away from me. I ’ d have killed him if he touched her, but he didn ’ t deserve this. He lay there, still and dead, his skin ripped from his body. I did my best to process what was before me, but I hardly had time before I heard a scream in a familiar voice. I ran to my daughter, caught in some manner of devious trap, begging for my help. And I saw them. Giants, two of them, casually walking in their foreign gait toward my poor, terrified daughter, and I could do nothing. One of them pointed at me and said something in an unintelligible language, and the other raised a thing to point at me. There was a crack like an alarm, and an eruption of pain in my leg. I looked at the wound and couldn ’ t hardly believe that they must have caused it. I ran. I left her there and I ran. I ran until I reached my home and dove inside. My family, those that were left, helped tend my wounds. 
 
 That was weeks ago. The land now dwindles, and they don ’ t just live by the water. Their giant buildings stretch as far as they eye can see, and they continue to come amongst us and slaughter us for reasons incomprehensible. I venture out much less now. I can only hope that they will leave as suddenly as they came. 

