Book 4: Chapter 22: Herd Mother
Sen thought that it wasn’t really necessary, but the oxen insisted on taking him and Falling Leaf back to their herd. They spent two days sheltering beneath the considerable protection of the spirit oxen. Individually, a spirit ox was potent and formidable, although slow to rouse to action. As a group, few predators of any stripe were likely to tempt the wrath of the entire herd. Necessary or not, Sen was grateful for the opportunity to extract the stone teeth shards from his calf without worrying about something finding or attacking them. It was delicate work made more difficult by the excruciating pain involved. Falling Leaf tried to do it for him, but quickly bowed out when she realized that her qi and spiritual sense weren’t as finely-tuned for the work as Sen’s. The task was made slower and even more difficult by the fact that he had to do most of the work blind. Still, he eventually extracted the last fragment and managed to cook himself a healing elixir before passing out.
Even with the aid of the elixir and the abundant qi resources available in the wilds, it took his leg most of a day to finish healing. Sen learned that most of the oxen could talk in the same way that Falling Leaf could talk before her transformation. They just didn’t bother with it unless they had something very important to say that they didn’t want to be misinterpreted. Since almost nothing rose to that level of importance, they spoke infrequently. He had been a little worried that there might be some friction between Falling Leaf and the oxen. She would have been a natural predator for them in her original form. She had waved off that concern.
“I like them,” she had said, as though that settled everything.
After a little thought, Sen supposed it did. It was on the second day, when his leg was mostly finished healing that Sen had drifted a little apart from the herd, walking up to the top of a small hill to get a look at the surrounding area. They were so far away from anything like civilization that he thought there was a good chance that he might be one of the only human beings alive to have seen the area. It was mostly forest, although not quite the same kind of forest he had gotten accustomed to on the mountain. Up there, it had mostly been evergreens of one kind or another with their needles and sticky sap. Down in the lowlands where he was now, there was much more variety. There were ginkgo trees, pagoda trees, and even the occasional dawn redwood. He thought he even spotted a grove of plum trees in the distance. This was a wild, savage place, but there was also a kind of peace to be found in it.
For every fight they were in, he found half a dozen incredibly old and powerful medicinal herbs or alchemical reagents that were five times as potent as anything he had worked with. He suspected that many of them had made the transition from mere ingredients into legitimate natural treasures. They were all so powerful, in fact, that he hadn’t dared to use any of them in his healing elixir. He wanted an absolutely clear head when he worked with those plants and reagents. He knew perfectly well that more powerful herbs weren’t always a good thing. If a plant was too potent, it could end up doing more harm than good. And isn’t that why you’re out here, he thought a little grimly. Some anger is useful, even a good thing in the right context, but you nurtured that plant a little too well.
“I wished to thank you for intervening on behalf of the young ones,” said a female voice behind him.
Sen turned and faced the largest spirit ox he had ever seen. The cow was so large that she could look him directly in the eye. Sen had seen her moving among the other oxen, and they showed her tremendous deference. He bowed to her.
“I greet you, herd mother, and thank you for your hospitality. I was happy to help. Your people have done me more kindnesses than I deserved.”
“I greet you, Judgment’s Gale.”
Sen’s eyes snapped up in surprise. How did she even know that name, he wondered. He saw a light of placid amusement in her eyes.
“Our mortal cousins are everywhere. They hear much, and we all have an…interest in you. The cultivator who showed kindness. The cultivator who brings judgment. The cultivator who burns the sky and speaks to the water. We mark your passage, your comings and goings, and your absences.”
Sen grimaced at that reminder but didn’t comment on it. “I didn’t realize I was so interesting.”
“Perhaps not to others, but you are to us. I wondered why you were here, so far from your natural places. Yet, I see now that you are troubled. You came here looking for something. Tell me, child of the mountain, what do you seek so far from your own kind?”
Sen considered best how to explain it. “I require a kind of purification. Or enlightenment. There is an anger in me that has grown beyond control.”
“And you would spend it against spirit beasts?”
“Not all of them. Not even most of them. Those that attack mindlessly. Those that hate humans blindly.”
The spirit ox regarded him with eyes like pools of starless night. “If you travel much farther, you will find neither purification nor enlightenment, only death. Strong as you are, there are dangers ahead that will overmatch you.”
“Sometimes, enlightenment can only be found on the edge of death.”
“Perhaps, but what value is that enlightenment if you die immediately after you find it?”
Sen stared out over the wilds. Part of him knew he didn’t belong here, that he was intruding on a world that wasn’t his own. Yet, part of him felt like he could stay there and be content with the daily fight to survive and thrive. Much like with his unquenchable anger and his desire for peace, he was a man divided in himself. And, young as he was, he knew that a man divided wouldn’t be long for this or any other world. He pondered how to answer the cow, or if there was an answer.
“Perhaps it is of no value. Perhaps it smooths the way in the next life. Who can know? What I do know is that if I can’t find a way to tame this anger, it will mean death all the same. I will challenge those I should not. Offend those I should not. And my death will set in motion even more death.”
“So, not mere anger, but a madness of it.”
Sen considered those words and nodded. “Yes. I think so.”
“When you leave here, travel directly west. In a day or two of travel, you will find a barren, rocky place there. In it, you will find what you seek, or you will find your death.”
Sen let those words settle into him. Resolution or death. He wasn’t eager for death, but death was seeking him out all the same. If it happened out here, while he sought a solution, he didn’t think he’d carry much regret into the next life. If he could come to a resolution, that was just the first step in solving a much more complicated problem, but it was an absolutely necessary first step. He faced the spirit ox again and offered her another deep bow.
“I thank the herd mother for her guidance in this matter.”
The great spirit beast inclined her head to him and started to turn away, but seemed to reconsider. “Try to survive. Rare are those among your kind with regard for my kind. Having found you, we would prefer not to lose you.”
“My kind? Humans or cultivators?”
“Yes.”
With that, the herd mother plodded away. Sen watched her go and, with a bit of amusement, realized that even a slow plod for the giant ox covered a lot of ground in a hurry. Within a minute or two, she down the hill and back among her herd. Sen turned his eyes west, straining to see this barren, rocky place, but it was beyond even his enhanced vision. A day or two, he thought, and then it will be done. One way or the other. Sen stayed up on the hill for a time and just cultivated. He knew that his passive cultivation would likely keep him well-supplied with qi, but much like making tea, the ritual of cultivation helped him keep steady and stay in control. As the afternoon began to inevitably fade toward evening, Sen came down off the hill and looked for Falling Leaf. He found her gleefully playing with the ox calves, who were far more rambunctious than their elders. She dashed between them or away from them. The calves, joyously unaware of the dangers that life had in store, thundered after her under the watchful gazes of older, more seasoned members of the herd.
He couldn’t help but notice the uncomplicated joy in both Falling Leaf and the calves as they played. He knew that Falling Leaf was aware of the complexities and dangers in the world, yet she had managed to cling tight to this one little bit of innocence. He envied her a tiny bit for that. He was also happy for her that she could still feel that way. She noticed him standing there after a time and jogged over to him, a big smile on her face.
“Have fun?” he asked, smiling back.
“I did,” she declared.
“I’m glad.”
“We’re leaving, aren’t we?” she asked.
There was no chastisement or bitterness in the words, just a kind of quiet sadness that this peaceful interlude would soon end. Something in him broke open a little bit at that expression, and his vague intention to get a few hours of travel in that day died inside of him. He looked over at the calves, who were staring mournfully at Falling Leaf.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Why don’t you introduce me to your new playmates.”
Falling Leaf beamed up at him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him over to meet the calves.
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