Figured I'd use the season game prompt for this one. ^^
The red wolf had a lot on his mind—not that he never had a lot on his mind. He fretted about the plants he’d tried to memorize, and their uses, and how to grow them, and he tried just as hard to remember the names of all his Tribe mates he met. His mind was working just as quickly as his mouth usually did, and he nearly hunched with the burden of these thoughts as he walked through the village, his leather sack tossed over his white shoulder.
“The fast is coming soon,” Unatsikanogeni said aloud, seemingly to no one. “It’s been a while since I participated, I mean, since I wasn’t really…” He shrugged, not wanting to think too much about life in the old, main body of the Tribe. “It’s hard to do it if you’ve got no one supporting you. I mean, back home, everyone remotely spiritual did it, so there wasn’t really a problem. But there were still issues, I mean, if the crops were bad, or someone forgot to actually eat them, or they got a bad one. Medics were there, of course, but how many medics are here?” He frowned suddenly, big ears flattening.
“Have—have any of your old charges died? Y’know, kicked the bucket from starvation? What were your old charges like, anyhow? I guess… I guess they’d have to be morons to starve themselves during the fast, and I mean, it’s not like you’d guide any morons if you had the choice, heh, but I mean—better safe than sorry, am I right?”
He swallowed as he ceased rambling, pausing in the middle of the village street and turning his head toward the scent of a deer. After a moment, his spirit guide came into vision and cocked her head at him, her large ears flapping as her eyes twinkled gently. She gave no answer, only sent him the image of the crops, but they had enough of an understanding that he nodded—then proceeded to destroy the covert nature of their conversation by blabbering about it.
“I guess as long as we’ve got a good harvest to eat, and the medics do their jobs, it won’t be too much of a problem. And that’s what we’re doing now, right? Helping the medics do their jobs. That doesn’t sound too disrespectful, does it? Don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, I mean, what if I need to saw off that foot and then they’ll hate me for—”
The doe shook her head.
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