Word Count → 347
Holding the base of the plant in his hand, Unatsi listened intently to her explanation; he was thirsty for any sort of knowledge that might set him right on this path. He was still frustrated, and the yearling would have a rough time changing that, but at least she could teach him like no one else had really bothered to (ignoring the fact that many luperci had offered; Una was just quick to place the blame on the Tribe rather than himself, as usual).
The image of the crops running wild made him twitch a smile, only because he was imagining them literally running and overtaking the entire territory. Maybe this whole Plantslayer thing wasn’t as far-fetched as he thought.
The look in the Utina’s blue eyes made him recoil once more, expecting to be chastised and preparing for it. He knew that what he said was probably blasphemy to a lot of goodie-goodie AniWayans, but it was the uncensored truth, and he wanted to get it off his chest. His choice of words in particular seemed to be poor, but she firmly yet kindly told him to relax and that she wouldn’t let him royally screw up. This offer was enough to make him look her right in the face again, his big ears coming to attention as the dog hybrid began to explain more.
As erratic as his thought process and speech were, Unatsikanogeni was good at sorting facts and details and committing them to memory. While he wouldn’t readily believe it, all he needed was a list—of processes, of uses—for each plant, and he’d be on his way to actually learning how to farm. He listened intently as she explained the seeds at the top of the plants falling into the soil, and some more details about controlling them so they wouldn’t wither away or take over.
“Goliga,” the farmer said brightly, his demeanor shifting almost instantaneously. He held up the stalk in his hand, motioning to the others of the same kind around them that could be harvested. “Dadadvneli naquugesv, vv?”
Image courtesy of wanderingsoul-stox@deviantART
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