The sloped backs and graying heads of the elder women lined the grove’s outer edge. Most were chatting amongst themselves. One woman knelt to console a screaming child, rubbing broad, flat leaves into his palm. She used a leather-wrapped hand to snatch up his heap of Stinging Nettles and place them in a basket. With soothing coos as his squealing subsided, she praised him for his find and showed him how to properly protect his hand before sending him back out for more.

The elders greeted them with polite smiles as they approached.

“Thank you so much, Daysha,” Yuli gestured for Daysha to place her basket back onto Yuli’s shoulder, “I will take these.”

Daysha removed the haul of honey from her head and kissed Yuli’s cheek before placing the basket against it. Yuli smiled at her sweetly before continuing on.

Women and children were scattered, attending to their tasks. The spriteliest youths would tear off as far as their legs would carry, over-eager to return with some unique prize from a bush none had thought to scavenge. Their mothers and older sisters, however, yielded the best results having learned where to look in every season, returning time after time to the tried and true locations until the children had the sense to study by their sides. The littlest children mimicked assistance, returning from short distances with insects and leaves.

The valley lay between rolling hillsides to the west and one tall, eastern peak with the valley on one slope and a hidden cliffside on its opposite face. Those capable enough to climb, to root, and to retrieve would find there the rarities most prized by the elders.

Those too old or infirm to forage walked or sat along the encampment’s outer rim accompanied by the nursing mothers, either approving or discarding the various finds, explaining every decision they made if the finder showed a willingness to listen. Even the simple minded could sort, heap, and carry the collected items. This day, a group of seven gray heads sat amid at least twice as many baskets, sorting their contents. Daysha spotted Yuli’s mother, the only young woman among them, nursing an infant with a watchful eye on her two-year old who peered curiously into the baskets.

From among the fruit trees Daysha could see a woman approaching with a face nearly identical to her own. Their greatest distinction shone in their coloration, Daysha having inherited her father's dark hair and tanned skin as opposed to her mother’s chestnut-brown hair and pale complexion.

“I was starting to wonder if I’d see you!” Daysha’s mother kissed her cheek and embraced her.

When she stepped back, a glisten of water from Daysha’s wet hair remained on Keti’s arm and she breathed in recognition, “Ah…”

Daysha’s heart sank.

“How was – did you have a good morning?” Keti stumbled over her own words.

“Yes,” Daysha replied cheerfully. “I had a lovely talk with Yuli as we walked here.”

“Mhmm…” Keti’s head tilted gently, “And before that?”

Daysha sighed, “Yes, mother, I was at the river and it was very pleasant. You must not have spoken with Sonem. She, Mila, and Brin knew I’d be here after.”

“Oh, I saw them, but no I didn’t ask about you. No need to worry them.”

“But you were worried?”

“No, no. I was only just now wondering where you were, and here you are.”

“Here I am,” Daysha looked around. “Would you like to join me in looking for sprouts on the hillside? We can do a second pass over there where the children are.”

“You had that dream again, didn’t you?” Keti blurted, dropping her voice.

Daysha’s stomach plunged, “I – Yes.” She conceded the answer, never having been capable of lying to her mother.

“Was it the same?” Keti spoke with great compassion.

Daysha glanced at the group of elders not far from where they stood and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mother, I’m not ready to talk about it. I have had a pleasant morning and I would like to keep it that way.”

Gesturing with her head toward the seated group of women, Keti said, “They could help, you know.”

A wave of frustration and painful sadness crashed against Daysha and threatened to well in her eyes. “Please, let’s walk.” She hugged her mothers arm and led her gently, but firmly away.

Several silent paces from others, Daysha settled the quiver behind her voice and said, “I didn’t come for help, I came to help. Okay? Let’s see what we can find.”

“No one would mind if you didn’t join the forage for one day.” Keti’s voice was sweet and airy as she scanned the hillside for sprouts.

This did not comfort Daysha as it was likely intended to.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"Mother, foraging is the one thing I can do. I can't climb like I once did. Yuli and the other young women have the honey collection well in hand. If the tribe doesn't need me to forage, what do they need me for?"

Keti looked at Daysha, visibly taken aback. “You are deeply valued, Day, and not just because of your foraging.”

"I know that. But if I let a dream keep me from something I can easily do, it's just one more thing that has been taken from me."

"Not having what you want isn't the same as having something taken from you." Keti spoke with soft, maternal correction.

"It isn't?" Daysha retorted defiantly. "All the other women my age are going about their days with children on their hips. They get to teach, to pass on a piece of themselves. All the washing and mending you did with us learning by your side, did that not give you a purpose outside of your chores?"

"You are teaching the young, like Yuli, to find their place here."

"Only because her mother is still nursing."

"And with her sixth still at the breast, do you wonder if Syleen ever feels a bit left behind? Maybe she also asks what she can contribute."

Daysha had not considered this. It embittered her to be forced to empathize with another's suffering. Daysha felt her mother's appeal detracted from the compassion she desired.

"You have learned so much over the years," Keti offered gently. "You have surpassed the others your age because the nursing mothers have only themselves and their children to attend to. We both want that for you. But there is nothing that could have happened differently that would make me want to see you a different way. We treasure what has been shaped in you, Daysha. Whether you pass on what you know or not, we need you to do it."

Daysha squatted to gaze more closely at a cluster of leaves. Dropping lower made her feel like she could move away from the conversation, even just a little. After a moment of petulant silence she offered, "Maybe I'll just become one of the elder women sorting finds and making the balms and salves for the Healer."

"Do you know why we leave that task to the elder women?"

"They're the most knowledgeable. Younger women can't be trusted to craft medicines yet."

"Yes, because they have learned patience. Age, long suffering, these produce wisdom, Daysha. These are now, and will continue to be, your advantages."

"But what happens when I'm an old woman, expected to assist as a midwife? Elder women assist in deliveries because they've been there before. Usually multiple times. The wisdom those women offer, I may never have!"

"You are searching for troubles, Daysha," Keti pleaded.

"I'm anticipating them, mother."

“And if we were meant to anticipate the sprouts,” Keti knelt beside Daysha and swept her hand across the brush, “We would be lying out here on our bellies all winter, watching the ground and waiting for a sprig of green. But we don’t do that, do we? We occupy ourselves with what is here. When it’s absent, we wait. And we use the rest of our time wisely.”

Choking a little, Daysha offered, "I don't know what else I can do, Mother. All these years and I have tried everything anyone cared to shove at me. The elders, the nursing women, they all have something for me. Try this. Eat this. Bathe this way. Sleep this way. Give Maisen this and this and this!"

Daysha's voice reached a fever pitch before Keti reached out gently for Daysha's hand, "I know," she whispered, tears behind her eyes.

“I don’t know which is worse… when everyone was constantly offering assistance or now… when no one is,” Daysha sat down and let her head fall back on her shoulders, her eyes closed. She sat for a moment. Keti said nothing. Opening her eyes once again, she admitted, “And the dreams are making it worse.”

Keti squeezed Daysha’s hand gently, “How?”

“Well,” Daysha breathed, “Their timing, for one. Every cycle, when The Follower is full and bright, that’s when it comes. They seem significant, but they tell me nothing. I don’t know why they started or if they will ever end. Every time I wake up I feel empty. Like, in the dream, I have something being drawn out of me. And when I’m sleeping I feel like I – like I’ve arrived. Like I’ve accomplished something and the prize for my efforts is there waiting for me. But when I’m awake, there’s nothing.”

“Daysha, you don’t wake up to nothing,” Ketti pleaded.

“No, I know. That’s not what I mean. What did you say before, ‘not having what I want isn’t the same as having it taken’? Well, when I’m dreaming, somehow, I have what I want. When I’m awake, I don’t.”

“Do you have a child in the dream?”

“No.”

“So what is it giving you that goes away when you wake up?”

“Hope.”

The two women sat in silence on the hillside. Watching the others work.

“I know I was never promised motherhood,” Daysha continued, “I just assumed. I suppose when it comes down to it, I’ve been cheated by nothing but the odds. I assume that one day my body will tell me definitively that I’ve passed my time. I already prepared myself to wait on that day with just a little bit of hope until then. And now I don’t know if I’ll have these dreams to mock me just as they do now, every time I wash from my bloom that comes because, yet again, no child did.”

“Who have you told about the dream?”

“You.”

“Not Maisen?”

“No…”

Keti’s voice lilted with gentle scolding, “Daysha… a woman does not have a child alone.”

“I’m not hiding that much from him, mother!” Daysha spat with humored exasperation.

“That’s not what I mean,” Keti said with a laugh. “Daysha, if you are this weighed down, there is no good in keeping it from him. From beginning to end, you two are together in all things.”

“I know,” Daysha offered, dejectedly pulling at the dry grass poking her legs.

“The other person you should tell is the Chieftain,” Keti said.

“The Chieftain?” Daysha shouted. She felt her cheeks flush as the words echoed back to her.

Keti laughed, “Yes. The Chieftain. Daysha, he is the leader of our tribe. He knows the body as well as the mind and spirit. He speaks from the experience of all who came before him and you have no idea what help he may offer here.”

“Can he take the dreams away?”

“Maybe,” Keti chuckled. “Or maybe he could even help reveal why you’re having them.”

The prospect – the hope – for answers pulled at Daysha. After a moment of silence she breathed, “Okay.”

Keti put her arm around Daysha and kissed her head. “We’ll go together in the morning.”