With a rattle of beads, a figure entered the hut.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
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. \u201cBe welcome in my home, my Chief,\u201d he intoned.<\/p>\n
The visitor took a few steps forward. \u201cI saw you return from the grove, Leaftender. What omens do you bring?\u201d Her voice was level and full of pride, as any chief’s ought to be, but it was also kept soft and respectful.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome and see,\u201d he invited.<\/p>\n
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.<\/p>\n
\u201cBlighted,\u201d the chief breathed.<\/p>\n
The leaftender nodded. \u201cSome of it, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHave we offended the All-mother? What should we do?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head. \u201cIt’s too early to say. Rushing into a course might only do us more harm.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat blight looks like a clear warning to me,\u201d she protested.<\/p>\n
Again, he shook his head. \u201cMy 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.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stiffened, but did not object. After taking a few measured breaths, she asked, \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe All-mother guides us,\u201d he murmured, \u201cas 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.\u201d Balancing the platter on one hand, he lifted the leaf with the other. \u201cYes, blight has taken this leaf. But not all<\/em> of it. See how its base is still good and sound. Only on the farther edges has the blight taken hold.\u201d<\/p>\n He lapsed into silence. After a few tense moments, she asked, \u201cSo what does that mean?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n Again he shook his head. \u201cThat 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 \u2013 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?\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head. \u201cI will tell you when I know more, my Chief. But it might not be tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n She drew a deep breath; then, \u201cAs you say, Leaftender.\u201d With a bow of her head, she turned and left with a rattle of beads.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A seer reflects on his visions of the world.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[25],"tags":[84],"class_list":["post-378","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-one-shot","tag-flash"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/378","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=378"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/378\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=378"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=378"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/furry-tales.net\/shurhaian\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=378"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}