With a rattle of beads, a figure entered the hut.

His stride was slow and thoughtful, his attention focused on one small thing in his hand. He set that thing upon a carved and inlaid platter and brought it with him to a mat in the back of the hut, opposite the bead-strewn entrance. There he sat, cross-legged with the platter in front of him, his back against the central pole, gazing down upon his treasure and thinking.

Again the beads rattled. The second figure waited by the entryway in respectful silence. After a time, the seated man stirred, head tilting slightly so that he could glance over his shoulder. “Be welcome in my home, my Chief,” he intoned.

The visitor took a few steps forward. “I saw you return from the grove, Leaftender. What omens do you bring?” Her voice was level and full of pride, as any chief’s ought to be, but it was also kept soft and respectful.

“Come and see,” he invited.

As she came farther into the hut, he lifted the platter on his palms, into the lamplight. A single many-lobed oak leaf rested upon it, vibrant green near the stem, marred and misshapen farther out.

“Blighted,” the chief breathed.

The leaftender nodded. “Some of it, yes.”

“Have we offended the All-mother? What should we do?”

He shook his head. “It’s too early to say. Rushing into a course might only do us more harm.”

“That blight looks like a clear warning to me,” she protested.

Again, he shook his head. “My Chief, you are a strong huntress and wise in the ways of your people. But you have not often taken the counsel of the All-mother. Let your eagerness to act, to right the difficulties faced by our people, be tempered with experience now.”

She stiffened, but did not object. After taking a few measured breaths, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“The All-mother guides us,” he murmured, “as ever She has done. But Her world is not ours. Her guidance is not a command being shouted, but a whisper borne by the wind.” Balancing the platter on one hand, he lifted the leaf with the other. “Yes, blight has taken this leaf. But not all of it. See how its base is still good and sound. Only on the farther edges has the blight taken hold.”

He lapsed into silence. After a few tense moments, she asked, “So what does that mean?”

Again he shook his head. “That is why I say it is too early to say, my chief. The All-mother’s omens are often indirect, even cryptic, and may take years to express in whole. What we see here, as Her blessing graces the land and pushes the winter cold away, is but a glimpse of a moment – one sound of a sentence. Is She warning us of a danger coming, a sickness or a threat from afar? Or is She telling us that the lean years we have known are fading behind us? Is the tree from which this leaf came succumbing to blight, or pushing it away?”

He shook his head. “I will tell you when I know more, my Chief. But it might not be tonight.”

She drew a deep breath; then, “As you say, Leaftender.” With a bow of her head, she turned and left with a rattle of beads.