For the rest of the ride, Priya tried her best. It was hard at first. She would close her eyes, turning inward, and as soon as she found the stillness, the wagon would bump and she would lose it, her eyes flying open. It was disorienting keeping her eyes closed. With the wagon’s movements, there were times where she felt like she was falling. Other times she would bump into Tohki and she would mumble an apology while Tohki rubbed her knee, telling her not to worry.

“I can’t do this,” Priya sighed.

“You’ve only just begun to learn,” said Tohki. “Your mind has been stuck, repeating the same patterns for years. And to unstick your mind, it takes time. You are like this wagon’s wheel, except you are not moving. If these wheels didn’t move, what good would they be? But they are free, moving around and around and around, guided forward by these two horses. Regardless of what is on the path, these wheels move freely and fluidly, unhindered. If it comes across a small rock or twig in the road, it does not stop. It rolls over it, because that is the nature of the wheel.”

“But the wheel doesn’t have a choice. It moves, because it is being pulled towards its destination. If it had a mind, don’t you think the wheel would say, ‘Enough of this! I am my own wheel and I will go where I please!’”

Tohki laughed. “Does the wheel ever stop being a wheel?”

Priya, paused, thinking. “No, it does not.”

“Is the stillness ever separate from you? Do you magically call it up at will or was it always there, residing within?”

“It's always there. I think.”

Tohki held up her hands, bringing her fingers together to form an angular shape. “You are the space between my fingers.” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand. “What you identify as your self is over here. Your body. Your mind. Your thoughts. Your ideas. Everything that you use to identify as Priya and everything you need to be Priya: fresh air to breath, good food, clean water. And over here—” Tohki wiggled the fingers of her right hand. “Here is the stillness; that which is without form, Eusou, the I Am. It includes you, but it is not limited by your sense of self. You have to be able to hold this notion that you and this stillness are one, but also separate.”

“Riddles, Tohki. You’re talking in riddles!”

“If you sat in quietness, being at one with the stillness, how much good would you be to your neighbors? If Anissa told you, ‘Priya, take care of the weeds in the garden’ but you were practicing stillness, could you do both? If you just practice stillness, it has no connection to the world, just the eternal. But if you go about your life, you’re not connected to the eternal. I open myself to experience all. I embrace desires and emotions, but I am not bound by them. If I have a desire and it does not feel fulfilling, I can drop it and move on. After a lifetime of practice, I can move between the stillness and my own wants and needs freely so that I am no longer aware of making the transition. And I do it continuously, so that there is no gap between the two. My self and the stillness are always accessible and available. And it is particularly handy during days like today. I will need my stillness to help the ewe, but I have to be fully in my self so that my mind and my hands are connected to the work. I am the wheel, ever moving.”

“So, be the wheel?” Priya asked.

“Be the wheel, but also be the path, the dirt on the path, the horses pulling the wagon so the wheel moves.”

“Be the wheel,” Priya murmured to herself before falling silent, turning her gaze outward, facing the eastern slopes.

With the village behind them, the vale had opened wide.

A herd of elk were grazing nearby, just outside the shelter of a copse of trees. As their wagon passed, a giant bull lifted its head watching them, standing proudly, tossing its antlers as it bugled.

Priya could see the lake in the distance, its curves drawing narrower and narrower as it met a small stream on its northern banks. The winter's snow melt trickled down the slopes to feed the stream that fed the lake. The path curved, taking the wagon close to the stream. Priya could hear the sound of moving water, burbling as it moved over rocks and submerged branches.

Abandoned homes dotted the path, leaning this way and that, their foundations and frames weakened from years of neglect. Priya didn’t remember a time that these houses sat full, but Aaron and Anissa did. During past journeys to Serah and Zachael’s farm, Priya’s parents spoke of a time when the vale was more full of life; a village and community that stretched from the northern to the southern edge and from the eastern to the western slopes. When harvests came in short and winters were harsh, people died. The fever that took Serah’s parents had spread through the farms outside the village, taking many lives.

But that was the way of life in the vale. No one ever left unless it was to meet Eusou and The Mother in the sky.

Soon the farm came into view. From a distance, Priya was able to see the herd of sheep, moving about the pasture being driven by a black and white dog, nipping at their heels to keep them in line.

Aaron, placing his fingers in his mouth, gave a sharp and long whistle, signaling their arrival.

Serah and Zachael emerged from the house and offered them a wave. Zachael was taller than Serah, though not by much. He was handsome in his own way: strong shoulders, a wide chest, dark eyes that were an intense, almost unnatural shade of gray. His hair was held back with a leather strap and a heavy beard covered his face, obscuring and highlighting his features.

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Aaron waved back, pulling the horses back into a slow canter. He stopped in front of a trough, hopping down and letting the reins rest in his seat. Walking to the back of the wagon, he helped Tohki down.

Priya jumped off the side, running to Serah and wrapping her in an embrace.

“Well, hello to you too,” Zachael said. He smiled, reaching down to ruffle Priya’s hair. Priya saw it coming and turned in Serah’s embrace to avoid it. Zachael laughed. “Aaron. Tohki. Thank you for coming.”

Tohki looked towards the barn. “Is she in there?”

“Aye,” Zachael replied.

“Well, come along then,” Tohki said, leading the way.

They found the ewe in a far stall. She was laying on some fresh straw, her breathing labored.

Tohki knelt down next to the ewe, placing her hand on her distended abdomen. “You didn’t tell me she was laboring.”

Zachael ran a hand through his hair. “I honestly thought I had a few more days. She started early this morning.”

“Priya, come here.” Tohki motioned for Priya to join her. Taking Priya’s hand, she placed it on the underside of the ewe, guiding her fingers, and showing her where to push in. “Do you feel that? That is the kid’s head. His back is—” Tohki moved Priya’s fingers again, “—here. She cannot give birth when his back is blocking the birth canal. In order to aid this ewe, we are going to have to turn her kid in the womb.”

“We tried yesterday,” Zachael said, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Aye,” Tohki said, shaking her head. “You were the same way in your mother’s womb, Zachael. You were comfortable, all folded up, just sitting on her uterus, biding your time. You just needed some coaxing, just as this kid needs some coaxing.”

Reaching into her satchel, Tohki removed her pipe and the dried green and orange plant. Breaking off bits of the plant, she rolled it in her hand, grinding it up into a fine dust, which she packed into the bowl of her pipe. Removing a flint and steel, she struck the two together over the bowl until a spark caught. She lightly blew on it, causing the ember to grow, then stuck the pipe in her mouth, sucking on it, until smoke began to stream out of her mouth. Pulling in a long mouthful of smoke, she turned the ewe’s head to her and blew a slow stream into the ewe’s nostrils. The ewe’s eyes widened at this and it bleated a prayer. Tohki repeated this two more times, before setting the pipe off to the side.

“Zachael, can I have a small bit of grain?” Tohki asked.

Zachael nodded, disappearing for a moment and returning with a handful of grain. Tohki nodded towards Priya and Priya held out her hands receiving the grain from her cousin’s partner. Tohki pulled the stoppered jar of mixed herbs from her satchel and poured a bit onto the grain, closing Priya’s hands around it. Priya began to work the grain, folding and reshaping it with the moisture until she had a small pellet of the grain and herbal mixture.

Taking it from Priya, Tohki offered it to the ewe who gave it an offended sniff before gobbling it down.

“Serah,” Tohki asked. “I need fresh water and do you have any tallow?”

“Aye,” Serah replied.

Aaron, watching from a distance, spoke up, eager to do something other than spectate. “I’ll come with you.”

“Can you feel this?” Tohki asked, resting her hand on the ewe’s ribcage. Priya mirrored Tohki’s hand. “This kid and ewe are tethered. They are two, yet they are one. Here, feel her breath. See how it is slowing? Can you feel her heart? It still beats strong. You have to feel for both signs. You can’t listen to the heart alone and say that she is fine. You have to listen to the lungs; they can sometimes tell a different story.”

Priya closed her eyes, focusing, feeling the ewe’s ribs expand with each steady breath and the slow rhythm of the heart beating underneath. “What do these signs mean?”

“That the herbs are working.”

Serah returned with a small jar of tallow that she had savings from animal renderings. Aaron was a few steps behind her with a bucket of clean water.

Dipping her hands into the water, Tohki washed them before drying them on her linens. Tohki dipped her fingers into the jar of tallow and began to coat both hands and up to her elbow.

“Priya,” Tohki said, “stand behind me to watch. Aaron, hold her down at her neck. Zachael, hold her back legs.”

Tohki slowly and carefully pushed her index and middle fingers into the ewe. Sweeping her fingers in a circular motion around the walls of the ewe’s vagina, she found the cervix and pushed inside deeper. Tohki talked through the procedure so that Priya could learn. When her hand met the resistance of the kid’s spine, she stopped, feeling carefully before proceeding, trying to gently nudge it into the right position. When that didn’t work, Tohki followed along the kid’s spine until she could grab its head, pulling and twisting it into position. “If you can find the head and pull it into position, you don’t have to worry about the legs. It can still be born. But if it slips back into its old position, that’s when you will have to tie a snare, holding the head in position.”

Removing her hand from the ewe, Tohki sat back on her heels, watching to see if the kid would slip out of position. When it didn’t, she said, “Now, we let nature take its course.”

While the ewe labored, Tohki continued to teach Priya about the birthing process of animals and the different ways the young could present themselves in the womb.

Zachael knelt beside them, joining in Priya’s education. “Most of our kids are born with their front legs and head towards the birthing channel or their back legs. When their legs are tucked or their heads turned sideways, it is easy to correct.”

Priya gasped, interrupting Zachael and Tohki, pointing to the ewe’s backside. A liquid trickled down, quickly soaked up by the hay that covered the floor. Slowly, the cervix expanded and the legs and head began to emerge.

“Help her out,” Tohki urged.

Nervously, Priya gently wrapped her hands around the kid’s head and legs and guided the rest of its body into the world. Tohki knelt next to her, wiping a thick mucus away from the kid’s mouth and nostrils. Bleating, it tried to stand, but wobbled and fell. The ewe bleated after it, leaning forward, looking for her babe. Tohki guided the kid to the ewe’s milk where it began to suckle. Priya laughed at its vigor and lack of coordination.

And there they sat, watching and witnessing this new life’s first moments.

“Is this what it means to be a crone?” Priya asked Tohki.

“Some days are like this,” Tohki replied. “Other days are different. The common thread is that all are days of service; to the community, to the land, to its flocks.”

Serah settled down next to Priya. “You’ve chosen?

Priya leaned her head against Serah’s shoulder. “Aye.”

“I am proud of you, cousin,” Serah whispered.

Aaron cleared his throat. “If we are done here, there is more work to be done back at the farm and village.”

“We are done here,” Tohki said, rising to her feet. “Come, Priya. Our lessons will continue on the ride back.”