A Fable

 AN: This story is dedicated to a person whom I once loved. The flames are gone, but its nice reminiscing.
 

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Once upon a time, there was a crane, stalking the plains. 

His wings were  open, as if to shield others from the Sun's heat, but nobody was  interested in taking the refuge so offered. The crane, while not truly kindhearted, nonetheless felt a duty in his heart to offer shelter, and so kept his wings  opened, inviting everyone. Some had taken the offer, and shielded  themselves from the heat, but it was always brief, and they left  thanklessly. The crane didn't say a word, keeping his wings open for all.  

He would continue this task, until life itself was the last to leave.
 

One day, the crane spotted a hare, badly wounded and with a broken leg.  Feeling an odd ounce of sympathy bursting like a popped vein, the crane came to the hare, and shielded  him from the Sun. The crane lowered his head, and gently nuzzled against  the hare with the beak.
 

"Thank you" the hare muttered softly, words bleeding into the winds.
 

The crane nodded, stoically and with just enough empathy.

"How did you get hurt?" he asked.
 

"My kind betrayed me. My own family turned a blind eye and wished I was never  born."
 

For once, the crane's heart was marred with sorrow, a single tear emerging on his eye, like Hades wept for Orpheus. For once, he felt something beyond hollow civic duty: a desire to truly help another being, to shield not just from the Sun, but from all worldly perils. Better, he felt that, for once, he would be thanked truly for his services.
 

So, for the following days, the crane stood alongside the hare. He spent  all the time tending to his needs: he shielded him from the Sun, leaving only to bring fresh water and cherries on a rusty bowl. It was hard work, and took a toll  on the crane's health, but his compassion, his duty and his pride  kept him going even when he should rest and feed.
 

And yet, through all of those days, the hare did not say a word, besides  some grunts and nodding 'yes' or 'no'. The crane thought it was very  strange, but that did not bother him at first. As the hare began healing  and the time of the reward was nearing, however, the lack of true response began to annoy the crane.
 

"Hare, are you not going to thank me?" the crane asked, as patiently as he could.
 

"Crane, do you ever wonder why nobody thanks you when you do something for other people?" the hare asked.

The crane craned his neck. A feeling of dread began forming in his abdomen.
 

"It's because nobody wants what you're doing. Everyone wants shade in  the Sun's heat, but nobody wants that shade to come from someone that  burns with his own fire. You may have duty and honor, and you do all the duties assigned to you, but you're blinded by your own light."
 

"I never asked for you to heal me. I never asked for you to devote your  energy into keeping me alive. For all you knew, I might had wanted to  die. I thank your concern, yes, I am thankful for your kindness, but in the end, no matter how much you  thought otherwise, the only person you actually helped was yourself, not  me."
 

Saying that, the hare bowed and left towards the forest. The crane was  very confused and shocked, and broke into a depression. Never before had  someone made him feel depressed, and he never expected it to come from the person who would thank you.
 

Disillusioned, and broken emotionally, in terms of pride, ego, honor and  spirit, the crane bashed his head against a rock seven times, until he  collapsed and died.
 

And that is how our land's soil is red.