Kewanee — Chapter 3: Living Things

Previous chapter: Opening of the Gate

She went back. How could she not? The raccoon was unmistakably calling for help, and she was an experienced rescuer. She borrowed a box from a nearby shop and transported the animal as gently as possible, then asked for the nearest Muna healer. They weren’t that difficult to find after all. One of them practiced in the Clover Court garden, the only green space in Jusaka.

She first noticed the multitude of wooden carvings: animals and deities hanging from the branches of an enormous fruit tree. Suspended alongside them were chests used as floating shelves, brimming with jars and bottles. Some were already placed on a huge table, that a man dressed with straw was turning into a mixture. Or was it really a man? His face was so hidden behind a wild, bushy beard that he could almost pass for some kind of Chimera. And the… being wasn’t just working—he was humming. No, singing.

It was only then that Kewanee became aware of the sheer vitality surrounding the scene. A pair of squirrels scurried up the tree trunk, while birds flitted playfully through its branches. At the base of the tree, a white feathered fox sat quietly, its gaze fixed on the healer. Waiting to pounce? No, waiting patiently for whatever concoction the man was preparing.

The Muna suddenly looked up and waved at her. Without a word, he wrapped the paste he had been preparing in leaves and handed it to the fox. The animal took it in its jaws and darted away.

“Put her on the table,” he said, his voice so calm that it took Kewanee a moment to realize he was addressing her. When he waved again, she carefully placed the injured raccoon on the wooden surface.

“Where did you find her?” he asked.

“Her? Oh, the raccoon? It… She was lying in the middle of a crowded street,” Kewanee replied.

“How?” he asked simply, already beginning to examine the animal.

“I… I heard her,” Kewanee said, though that wasn’t entirely accurate. She couldn’t find a better way to describe what she had felt. The Muna gave a small nod, as though he understood, and then began gathering tools: pliers, compresses, bandages, jars, and bottles. As he worked, he occasionally asked for Kewanee’s assistance. When he realized she had first aid experience, he began to rely on her more heavily.

After what felt like an hour of meticulous care, the Muna finally stepped back and declared the raccoon out of danger. Exhausted but satisfied, Kewanee sat with him as he prepared tea beneath the fruit tree.

“You saved her life. We thank you deeply,” he said. “Not many Arkasterians care about wild animals.”

Kewanee felt a deep sense of pride—pride in herself and in the healer. The Muna weren’t weak after all. They simply contributed in their own, quiet way.

“Two months ago, I wouldn’t have either,” she admitted. “I didn’t… see them.”

“What changed?” the Muna asked.

She hesitated. But she could tell he would understand. So, she told him everything: the Imhallat, Sacagawea’s question, the overwhelming wave of feelings, the shame and the bitterness. He listened patiently, silently, until she finished.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “The Skein touched you. I can feel you. That’s rare for someone already on a different path.”

“What should I do?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“That’s for you to decide. Joining the Muna is an option, not an obligation. Caring is all that matters. And clearly, you do. If you wish, I can teach you the ways of our Faction.”

Kewanee didn’t feel ready—not yet. The man seemed to sense her hesitation.

“Take your time,” he said gently. “You know where to find me.”

Next chapter: The Endeavor