That Which Feeds Us

• Shevaun Rutherford, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

Her feet dipped into the water, sent ripples spiralling outwards. Usagi leant down and submerged her hands, buried the rice sapling into the soft mud.
From the silence, came the rough call of a deer. The Mizu villagers looked up from their work, towards the forest at the base of the mountain.
Usagi’s gaze passed to Okami, the wolf-faced elder. His dark eyes looked back at her.
Usagi caught the spear that flew across the field. “Put it out of its misery and drive the predator away,” Okami instructed.
Usagi nodded tersely. The villagers watched as she dashed down the mountain face and disappeared behind the trees.

Rays of light filtered through the leaves, and patterned the forest floor. Usagi sifted between the tree trunks. It was not uncommon for bears to wander into village territory, and attack the local deer.
Usagi would have to drive the feasting predator away. What was left of the deer would killed mercifully and brought back to be eaten. Nothing was wasted by the Mizu.
Usagi found the deer whimpering and kicking as it lay bloodied on the ground. Usagi lifted the spear and ended its suffering. She examined the deer, figuring out the best way to carry it, but something caught her off-guard. There was no claw or bite marks. Only the deep cuts of metal.
A twig snapped and Usagi flinched, ready to defend herself. Instead a figure came stumbling into view, a wild-eyed woman. Usagi recognized the weapon at her side, a metal sword of the destructive Kasai Tribe.

Usagi couldn’t believe her luck. The Kasai trumped loudly behind her. She had been instructed to lead the predator out of Mizu territory, so that was what she must do. The woman had been hunting, forced to go out of Kasai territory due to famine and gotten lost.
“Slow down, guide!” said the Kasai from behind.
Usagi paused for her to catch up. “Do you not listen to the Earth? Without Earth, that which feeds us, we would starve. Your kind should take better care of it.”
“My name is Iburu, if you would use it before criticising me.”
Suddenly, Usagi signalled for her to be silent. The forest inhaled.
There was a flash of fur. A bear lurched forward on its hind legs, roaring. Iburu lifted her sword arm.
“No!” Usagi pushed the woman to the ground before she could strike. She hit the ground between her and the bear with the butt of her spear, matching its roars. The bear thudded back onto all four legs and with grunts of unease, lumbered off into the foliage.
“It could return!” Iburu complained.
“We are close to her territory,” said Usagi, pointing to the fleeing bear with two cubs in tow. “See? She was just being territorial.”
Iburu was oddly silent. Usagi turned to her to find her eyes clouded, as if some great epiphany had come upon her.
Perhaps Usagi had been able to change just one Kasai’s mind about nature.