8. Goddess of Fertility

The eagles came back with empty claws, which made Epoh both happy and sad. It meant they hadn’t snatched Quili. It also meant she was the next one to be eaten. What could she do? What did she know, what did she know.

Kajar, a Pricecat who frightened her just by breathing, looked hopeful. “And?”

“They believed it immediately. They will leave at dawn.”

Kajar’s grin flashed his long hook teeth in the moonlight. “That is quickly. Then we must be ready at the cave. Bunjo!”

The brown bear was barely visible in the rainforest. He reluctantly walked to Kajar. A leaf bandage wrapped around his left paw and forehead. He didn’t want to use his damaged paw, so he walked a bit askew.

“Is the door ready?”

“You said I had one more day?”

“Is—it—done?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Not such a pretty door, but it will work.”

Sheeps walked past, stolen from Epoh’s camp. Even the enemy couldn’t use their terrible wool or meager milk for anything. Now that they had become useless, Kajar was about to slaughter them all for their meat.

For now he pushed them aside. “Nobody said it had to be a pretty door.”

“I am the Biggest Bearchitect. I make no ugly objects.”

Kajar pushed him on his back in an instant. Bunjo was unable to save himself with only three paws, so the sheep softened his fall.

“You were the Biggest Bearchitect. Now you are my slave.”

Epoh had seen it happen. In his haste, Bunjo had accidentally hit his own paw with his hammer. Something a bear builder—especially the Biggest Bearchitect—should never allow to happen. Still she hoped he’d keep Kajar busy as she searched a way to escape.

The rising sun brought salvation instead. The army left calmly, in a long column, for the cave. Bunjo carried the door they’d place in the opening. They were all just as hungry as Tibbowe’s army, except the strongest fighters. Predators and meat eaters, all of them.

Each time the eagles had made somebody vanish, they fed their prey to those soldiers. But they were clever enough to keep you alive until they wanted to eat you, to prevent your meat from rotting and spoiling.

Epoh now stood at the front of this hastily built wooden prison.

A prison that was quite beautiful and nice to stand in. At least she knew who must have built it. It didn’t change her terrible fate, nor that of her imprisoned companions: one depressed Gosti and a rabbit, the latest catch.

Epoh had been gathering her courage for days. She hated it. Being so uncertain, being afraid of everything, so she always let others decide what happened. She responded to everything with “what do I know”, when, in fact, she often did know. She did not want to be weird, and Quili’s garden idea was weird.

When she saw this army was trying the exact same thing, she realized weird ideas could be good ideas.

Almost dying had the strange effect that she could step over her fear for once.

“Bunjo!” she whispered. He did not turn around, but stepped backward as if the door was growing too heavy to carry.

“Say it?”

“Free me, please. You must know a way.”

“Kajar would kill me.”

“If he finds out.”

“We just placed an infallible trap. Tibbowe will open the door, be stuck, lose his whole army. Kajar wins this battle—and when he returns to see the empty cage …”

“Then we must also make sure he loses.”

“BUNJO!” Kajar yelled it from fifty tree lengths away. “You should have made a less heavy door! Without wooden decorations of wolf heads and flowers! Walk!”

Bunjo sighed. He threw the door on his back, as if it weighed nothing again, and trudged away. You see, a little voice in Epoh’s head spoke. Even when you act, it doesn’t change a thing.

In the dirt, where Bunjo’s injured paw had been, a twig with a weird shape caught her attention. Square bits, sharp corners, and a round branch containing bite marks. She had seen Bunjo carry this around. What did he call it?

Key. Epoh pushed herself from the edge of the cage and reached for the branch. She could touch it, but not grab it. She could only press it to the floor and shove it closer to the cage. When the key finally entered the cage, a Gostihand quickly snatched it from her.

“Give back that—”

With his flexible fingers, he could hold the key easily and push it in the keyhole. Three rotations later, the cage opened with more screeching than she wanted.

The Gosti gave back the key. “T-Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I was afraid they’d immediately eat me if I talked to Bunjo. If I tried to escape. But you …”

“No time, no time.”

Epoh ran out of sight, which was easy in overgrown Traferia. She searched for another route of camp. Away from the army, but close enough to perhaps warn Tibbowe.

She walked past their “garden”. Ten animals were left behind to work it. Epoh pushed herself behind a tree, then felt for that Gosti, but he was gone. He swung between the trees, going the other way. Away from both armies and probably Traferia.

Instead, those sheep were suddenly behind her. Their wool was thin and prickly; she quickly pulled back her paw.

Pricecats walked through the garden to … poop on it? The caretakers of the garden, mostly smaller catlike creatures, did not mind or even notice. They … they even nodded? As thanks?

These seeds had almost become full-grown plants. Since her arrival, this garden had grown to five times its size, all thanks to the magical seeds the eagles dropped. Some stalks received a yellow ball at the top, while others were yellow-brown with a pointy top.

Mais. Grain.

In this time period, dear reader, plants were much smaller. Most of it was inedible, just shell and seeds. Of course, the animals did not know that grain and mais would grow much larger and more nutrient later. Epoh had never seen this much food in one place—and they had grown it themselves!

She salivated and considered running into the garden to steal some. Against ten guards though, no matter how small, she didn’t dare.

The animals started singing. A prayer for which they all knew the words and movements. The Goddess of Fertility was asked for help. If she could please keep the weather mild, the dirt fresh and fertile, and certainly not send fires or floods. If she could please send good fortune and strong seeds, wherever she was.

Animals had been praying like this for centuries. They’d ask the forest for berries or nuts. For a multitude of healthy children. It had been a habit for a while to ask nature for fertility and fortune.

But she’d never considered applying this to your own garden. Neither had the enemy, she realized. The mais and grain alternated with other plants. Loveroses, the new plant you’d collect if you asked for many healthy children. Violets of Fortune, the classical plant to use if you wanted to ask the Goddess of Fertility for something. Even Turnbacktulips, a plant rejected by Origina because it would supposedly bring misfortune.

This garden was a ritual. They had made this to ask their gods for help in this war, for help in finding food. They had done this every season, for centuries.

That this accidentally yielded food they could control—that, they only realized when they saw Quili try it.

What Quili didn’t know, dear reader, is that the animals had helped her. Poop particles are incredibly helpful to plants. For the same reason as always: what survives, stays. Animals need to poop anyway, every day, so any plant that could use those particles had a huge advantage over those who couldn’t. And so, after a while, the world only contained plants who liked this fertilizer. They grew faster and stronger from it.

By trying to destroy her garden, they’d actually made it work—though the magical seeds did the rest. Nature often works like that. The animal who persists will turn a bad situation into a good one. Let’s see if Epoh and Quili could also do it this time.