O’s friend is carefully sharpening three pencils. Each has its own shade and length. He is preparing to continue the illustrations.

  “Tell me,” he says, pointing to the three pencils on the table. “Which one do you think is the prettiest?”

  ‘Probably the longest one,’ O replies.

  “Why?”

  ‘Because it is newer and cleaner than the other two.’

  “I knew you’d say that. It seems you are just like most people I know.”

  O notices a trace of displeasure in him. O only spoke from O’s own thoughts. O cannot fathom why this fellow would compare O to other people.

  ‘Then which one is the prettiest?’

  The young friend lifts the shortest pencil, scarcely longer than a finger. Its body, especially toward the blunt end, is covered in bite marks. He gives no explanation. O knows only that this is the pencil he most often uses for drawing.

  ‘So,’ O says, ‘do you enjoy drawing more, or writing?’

  “To be honest, I like drawing more, and listening to tales.”

  ‘Then why do you rewrite these stories for O?’

  “I think someone besides me might read them, and I enjoy drawing too. By the way, why does O always use the word ‘Story’? I think ‘Tale’ is the right one."

  ‘Ah. That’s because O thinks ‘Story’ fits better when something is true.’

  Since the scribe prefers “Tale,” O lets him use the word he likes. After all, it’s just a matter of names. And O sees that he is pleased to use the word “Tale” for the title of this book. That matters more than whether the word is right or wrong.

  The scribe has just completed yet another illustration. He does not seem entirely satisfied, even though O has praised it sincerely.

  “I know I still have much to work on, both painting and writing,” he says. “It is not as simple as I once thought.”

  ‘Paint one picture at a time, and write one page at a time, as you do each day. It will grow simpler to you.’

  “Thank you… O, please go on with your tale. I want to hear more.”

  ‘Very well, friend. And what follows is this:’

  ~~~

  Since the trio returned from the Lodom Mountains, Ramii and Hudyn were often busy with battle drills. Katuo spent her time among the ownan folk. She observed them and learned their ways.

  Each blue-ga’a, Katuo would go into the forest with Lyndorin and the ownan’e to forage. The ownan people rarely stored provisions; they gathered only what was needed to eat. Both ownan’e and ownan’a, young and old alike, so long as they were able, sought food for themselves and shared it with one another. However, in times such as this, when the ownan’a served as the main fighting force, the work of food and field belonged largely to the ownan’e.

  Apart from her work in the forest, Katuo found the ways in which the ownan farmed no less fascinating. Unlike the challenge of cultivating c’roroc plants in the Lodom Mountains, the ownan raised a variety of crops, interplanted within the same fields. Their plots lay near rivers, where moss-rich water proved ideal for irrigation. The fine droppings of the p’moopos were gathered and laid upon the fields.

  From Katuo’s observations, the creatures shared an intimate bond with the ownan. Somehow, herbivorous species knowingly kept their distance from the fields. More than that, a stout, heavy-set beast known as the b’tabou often accompanied farmers, lending their strength to till and turn the soil. In return, after each harvest, the ownan shared food and left edible portions of their crops for these understanding friends.

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  The ownan never feared insect invasions. Some insects fed upon plants, while others aided in pollination, helping flowers bear fruit. Those that consumed crops became food for other creatures in turn. Some fed on roots and tubers; many more enriched the soil’s fertility. One species might eat a certain crop but leave another untouched, and so the fields remained safe. Even when part of a harvest was lost to these creatures, the ownan accepted it peacefully, for such losses were inevitable, and even necessary.

  Thus the fields, in harmony with nature, maintained their own balance with little need for interference. The farmers did not plant crops upon the same soil season after season, but moved from plot to plot in turn. After each harvest, they gave thanks through dance, song, and acts of reverent worship. Then they allowed the land to rest and began anew elsewhere.

  'That we are able to nourish ourselves at all is thanks to Oaa’s generosity,' Lyndorin shared with Katuo as they tilled a field together. 'The Earth Mother is one of Oaa’s most precious blessings. We must not exhaust or mistreat Her for the sake of our own survival alone. Like every living being in Aomry, the Earth Mother too needs Her rest.'

  ~~~

  On one of her trips into the forest, Katuo wandered farther than usual. There she discovered a cluster of tall trees, lush and heavy with fruit—a most inviting sight. Delighted, she climbed up. One by one she plucked the ripe fruit and placed them into the large basket upon her back. When she reached the top of the tree, a faint sound drifted in from afar, lively and full of cheer.

  Katuo climbed back down and, her curiosity stirred, followed the sound. When she arrived, an intriguing scene unfolded before her eyes.

  Up among the tall branches, a group of ownan children were playing merrily with a band of whimsical creatures. A swarm of g’runs had woven thick, springy webs beneath the trees. The children bounced upon them and sprang high into the air. At once, the living branches reached out for them to grasp. B'boi creatures, with their long arms, caught the little ones midair and tossed them upward to others waiting above. And so the game went on. One child after another made their way to the treetops with flips and twirls, and then came down again in peals of laughter. The boldest among them leapt straight from the treetop to the webs below in a single wild bound.

  Every ownan was expected to learn how to ride a flying beast, and games of tumbling served as a way for children to grow accustomed to the open air. Some of the quicker, more daring ones even practiced riding g’loor in secret, despite not yet being permitted to do so.

  Katuo stood hidden behind a thicket. She watched the children and animals at play with delight. “How is it,” she wondered, “that such different beings understand one another so well?”

  ...

  ‘Do you want to play with us?’

  A small voice piped up beside her, making Katuo jump. An ownan’e child, with round, bright eyes, peered up at her.

  “Oh! Hey, little one…” Katuo smiled. “What’s your name?”

  ‘I’m Rudidi. Come play with me.’

  “Ah, I’ll just watch for now…”

  ‘Are you scared?’

  “Um… you all go ahead. Don’t mind me,” Katuo replied, flustered. Truth be told, she was a little nervous. Part of her wanted to try, but the game did look rather risky.

  A gaggle of children soon swarmed around Katuo. They seemed to take a liking to the henan girl, wrapping their arms about her in affection. Some greeted her with excited chatter, while others caught her hands and tugged her toward the webs. Overwhelmed by such warmth and innocence, Katuo could only give in, and join the game.

  And indeed, Katuo had nothing to regret. The more she played, the bolder and more spirited she became. She bounced higher and higher and burst into laughter as the children and the b’boi creatures tossed her into the air, and she let out a wild scream. For a moment, she felt like the straw-haired princess of her childhood once more.

  ~~~

  Suddenly, a strange sensation flickered through Katuo’s mind. She was still in the air. She drifted into a daze and forgot how high she was. Then she plummeted from the treetop.

  “What just happened? Why did I vanish?!”

  When she focused, the feeling slipped away. And she returned to playing with the children.

  …

  “Oh! It’s back!”

  That curious sensation sparked once more, only to fade just as quickly.

  “It only comes when I’m not trying to find it. How strange!”

  The sensation came unbidden. If she waited for it, it did not come. When she forgot it, it returned. Within her, something knew, though it had no name.

  From then on, the children, especially the little girl Rudidi, grew close to Katuo. They soon came to understand the expressions and speech of the henan, and in turn, she herself became far more fluent in the language of the ownan. She was carefree in her play with the children and the gentle creatures, and she lived in easy harmony among the people of the tribe. She no longer felt the need to seek or expect anything more.

  ~~~