Once there was a squabble between pigeons and doves over rights to a grove. A small group of soldiers was called in to settle the dispute. "The difference between the pure white dove and a filthy pigeon. Even the lowliest among us could decide this," the soldier scoffed. He signaled for a girl of the subterranean caste he kept as a slave to come forward. The slave girl picked up a branch fallen from an native olive tree and held it in her claws.
She circled a footprint at random and asked "does this belong to a dove or a pigeon?"
The birds, soldier, and his associates looked at her puzzled. "You can tell the difference?" he challenged.
"No for they are in essence the same bird." The birds glanced at each other and began to preen each other.
"She's right," a pigeon cooed.
"We were shallow for thinking otherwise," a dove replied.
The soldier smirked, and thought the girl was clever. Not wanting to admit this, he struck her in the back with his claws instead. "Be grateful I have let you live," he scolded. Her eyes welled up with tears and her face showed the expression of being betrayed.
This act ruffled the feathers of the winged messengers, and would be etched into their memories. For he was not aware of what destiny had in store for one of them. The humble roots to the tree of peace began with a single seed.