/+710“But why agriculture?” the red wolf asked, sitting on a flat stone and tilting his head. His fingers fumbled with one of his braids, which had started to become undone; he completed the process and let the bead drop into his hand. It was a reminder of how much time had passed since his brother had, the precursor to the events that would land him in AniWaya, so many miles away from the Great Tribe. Had Uleyvsv survived, he might not have felt so angry at the outsiders, not so driven to fight and protect. God knew how badly he’d failed at that, and at being a Tribe member in general, as his spirit guide often implied. However, why she’d choose a completely out-of-the-blue profession for him was still beyond him.
Udanvti did not seem offended by his question, however; she stared at him as mildly as always then flicked her big ears. “Come with me,” she said, and he had no choice but to quickly re-braid the bead into his hair and follow.
They did not have to travel very far before the fields came into view, great rows of well-plowed dirt and evidence of recent sowing as well. The soil smelled fertile, and some tools lay abandoned at the edge. It was a familiar sight from the Great Tribe, where they’d often harvested the Three Sisters and whatever else they could find for their animals. However, these fields didn’t look quite as expansive as the ones back home, and he was used to seeing a constant circulation of crops sprouting from the earth each season.
“AniWaya had but one Tsulvwisdanehi before you came,” the white-tailed doe said, her eyes roaming over the plant rows before landing on him. “None skilled or mastered in the rank. You will be the first, and this will be your responsibility, Unatsikanogeni.” She looked back toward the fields thoughtfully, her ears swiveled forward as if she could hear the plants growing in the earth. Or perhaps the spirit could; the seeds were alive and would grow and die just the same, sacrificed for the sake of the livestock who were sacrificed for the sake of the wolf. He had no doubt that she knew more than she was letting on about the young crops.
But there was one thing he wasn’t even sure a spirit guide could figure out. “You made up my mind for me about the profession even before you knew this.”
Udanvti glanced sidelong at him, and there was something almost embarrassed in her meek brown face. She recovered instantly, however, and lifted her chin. “Do you know what the Asgoli Digalogisgi’s mark represents?” she asked, and went on before he could answer in the negative. “Hope and love,” she murmured. “You need to hope that the plants will grow again, just as you need to hope that you will be reborn like the seeds—and hope that you will never again wither under the demands of the Tribe. Farmers must tirelessly love the earth in order to reap its gifts, which it gives in love for the farmers. And you need to love your fellow AniWayans enough to sacrifice for them, Unatsi.” Dark eyes regarded him with the wisdom of decades, maybe even millennia, before the Tribe used stone tools or before the first wolf howled.
The red wolf was humbled under that mild stare, even though guilt and defensiveness still surfaced underneath his trust for the spirit guide’s word. How could he love those who had forsaken them, and how could he hope when hope had only brought him pain? He still knew that he did not understand, but—maybe there was a glimmer of hope that Udanvti could lead him through it. He’d already come to AniWaya for a new start, and staring at the field, he could feel his new life being handed to him. He just needed to be strong enough to bear it.
After the Tsulvwisdanehi nodded agreement, the doe began to walk toward the fields, the wolf matching her stride on two legs. They meandered along the boundary of the field, murmuring about how the crops were planted in the old Tribe, identifying the tools lying around it, as the sun soared above.
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