Arjun & Spike

The sky is barely beginning to light up in the distance. There is more night in the air than day, and the prevailing silence is that of the ephemeral passage between darkness and light. In the dimness of dawn, the nocturnal sounds have ceased, and those of the morning are just beginning, with the first sharp trills of the birds. Squatting down, they grasp a handful of earth and rub it longingly in their palms. They inhale the humus, letting themselves be carried away by all the scents it carries. The heady aroma of decay, the potent fragrance of soil and manure, the rich effluvia of grass and moss, bark and dampness... They let this bouquet saturate their senses. It's good soil, fertile and fruitful. It's a generous ground, ready to bring forth life. That's the smell of life itself.

But it's not yet time to wield the spade or pitchfork, rake or hoe. It's the hour to greet the plants, to see how they're faring. Arjun wanders through the vegetable garden, weighing the clusters of tomatoes that are just beginning to turn red, examining the veined leaves of the blooming zucchinis. They stroke the lush branches of the kale, unearth a beetroot before dusting it off and slicing a thin sliver. The red juice runs over their fingers as they place it on their tongue, letting its earthy taste tantalize their taste buds. It will be a good harvest, and the Cornucoopia merchant will be pleased with what they'll offer in the coming days.

Spike wakes up too, yawning unabashedly as he rubs his eyes. Then he suddenly sneezes, his spines emerging from his skin for a brief moment before retracting. He looks at Arjun with a droplet on his nose — like a dew bubble — and eyes still fogged with sleep, while a faint smile lights up his face. The farmer affectionately pats his head, and he lets himself be cajoled. In a few minutes, he'll be fully awake and will start dancing as usual, all happy to walk among the crops. Arjun was happy to be able to rely on his constant good humor, always ready to help, always curious about what they were doing.

They had met him while wandering under the canopy of trees, a stick in hand. The Chimera was trying to climb an apple tree, slipping on the moss covering its roots. It was trying in vain to reach an apple, red and juicy. But the lowest one was unfortunately out of reach for the small creature. It was so absorbed in its potential loot that it didn't pay attention to them when they approached. With their stick, Arjun struck the trunk of the fruit tree, and an apple fell softly next to the sentient cactus. When the Chimera saw it, it rushed to embrace it lovingly, before taking big bites of the sweet and succulent fruit.

One evening, during a fireside gathering, Arjun stood up to speak. It seemed clear to them that to help the Spindle come back to life, there was no choice but to venture beyond the borders of Asgartha. Perhaps it was a wild dream, a chimera. But someone had to make this journey, for lack of an alternative. They declared to all that they were ready, Spike and them, to attempt the adventure, whatever its end result. Of course, there would be a thousand dangers to brave, a hundred thousand obstacles to overcome, but the survival of the Spindle was at stake, as well as the well-being of the entire Katkera. Wasn't it something they owed it to try? The other Muna didn't need to give their assent by any show of hands. Through the veins of the Skein, Arjun felt the unanimous blessing of their peers.

However, many years still separated them from the great departure. Arjun and Spike went to the capital to help the Expeditionary Corps prepare. The Muna provided their expertise to set up mobile and sustainable crops to meet the food needs of the exploration forces. Hydroponic farming, permaculture, soil regeneration, and biomimicry... They offered all their knowledge to the contingents of farmers, herders, and tenants who would accompany the Rediscovery Endeavor into environments where they could no longer rely on the abundant nourishment of the peninsula.

Spike climbs onto their knee and rests his head in the crook of their arm. Through the bond that unites them, he knows when something is troubling them, without them needing to vocalize anything. They give him a brief nod, to reassure him, to tell him that everything is fine. Around them, other cultivators join them as dawn tightens its grip on the world. There are some of their cousins, aunts and uncles, their brother, their grandfather. They disperse into the fields, the plantations, and the orchards... Before leaving, Arjun had insisted on taking a few months to see them again, and to share their life regulated by the simple rhythm of the seasons. They would humbly take care of turning the soil, planting, harvesting. Like they had done when they were young.