Day 61: Anything Day
Aside from Theatre Day, today was the day Mei had most been looking forward to—as, it seemed, most people did. Anything Day took place in the meadow between Moonrise Hill and the forest, so Gabu and Mei had only to step outside their cave when it was time for the day’s activities to start.
Almost everyone was there: Greta, Sagi, Darrel and Leo, Janice and Frank, Tanya (who was running Anything Day), Takkan, Kuro-san, and many others whose names Mei had forgotten or had never learned. The only people missing were Toto and Riri, who Mei presumed were too busy with their eggs, and Mii.
Everyone milled about, talking excitedly about what today’s activities might be. Tanya did much the same as everyone else. She was chatting with a pair of mice when Gabu and Mei arrived. The mice’s eyes widened when they saw Gabu and Mei approach—not with fear, Mei realised, but with wonder.
Tanya looked behind her and saw them. “Oh! Hello, Mei. I heard you were back, but I haven’t had a chance to ask how your trip went. How did it go?”
“Really good!” Mei said. “Everyone I met was really supportive once they took the time to listen. How have you been?”
“I’ve been all the better for having met you two. Being in charge of Anything Day has been an absolute delight, and none of it would be possible if not for you. Speaking of which,” Tanya looked around, “I think we’re just about ready to start.” She made a loud cheeping sound which got everyone’s attention. “Gather ‘round, everyone!”
The crowd arranged themselves into a circle around her, grouped loosely by species but with plenty of exceptions. Gabu and Mei fell back into the circle to avoid being at the centre of attention, as did the two mice.
“Does anyone have a suggestion for today’s activity?” Tanya asked.
A few people shouted out suggestions, many of them games Mei wasn’t familiar with. The suggestion that was met with the most enthusiasm was that they should tell stories, so that’s what they decided on. Tanya offered to start.
“This is a story I used to tell my younger sister before she died,” Tanya said. “It’s sort of a myth about how life started; most hedgehogs don’t believe it literally anymore.”
Tanya’s Story
Long ago, before there existed Animals, Plants, Rivers and Mountains, there was only Earth and Sky.
Lonely Earth said unto Sky, “I am lonely. Shine your radiance upon me, that I might become Mother Earth.”
Unknowable Sky, obeying Earth’s request, shone their radiance upon Earth, that she might become Mother Earth. Alas, while Sky’s radiance drew forth seedlings, the gestative precursor to Life, it also burned and destroyed them.
Crestfallen Earth said unto Sky, “Shine your radiance upon me softly, that you might nurture our children without destroying them.”
Obedient Sky, obeying Earth’s request, shone their radiance softly, that they might nurture the children of Earth without destroying them. Alas, Sky’s soft radiance did not light Fire, the spark of Life, and no seedlings grew.
Motherly Earth said unto Sky, “If you care for me and the dream of what our children might become, split yourself in twain, that one part might spark Life and the other part may cradle it in gentle Darkness.”
Parental Sky, obeying Earth’s request, split themselves into Day and Night. Countless times did Day and Night take turns, warming Earth by Day and soothing her by Night.
One Day, a seedling sprouted from the Earth, that it might bask in Day’s radiance. Only when the seedling had received Fire, the spark of Life, did Night take over from Day. Night cradled the seedling in gentle Darkness, granting it quiet reflection on how it might take form, and this reflection conferred Wisdom.
The three caring parents, Day, Night and Mother Earth, nurtured the seedling until it became Life. The first form Life took was Plants, spreading over their Mother Earth like a warm blanket, hugging and thanking her for their existence.
Proud Mother Earth said unto Plants, “I care for you, my children. Thank you for being Life. Whatever it is you wish, tell it me, that I might grant it.”
Wise Plants said unto their Mother Earth, “Mother Earth, we wish for Life to be special, and for that, it must be fleeting. Help us to appreciate the gift of our existence.”
Mother Earth, saddened but proud, obeyed Plants’ request. She called upon Day and Night, those who had created Life, to now create Death. Day and Night, saddened but understanding, obeyed Mother Earth’s request. From that Day forward, all Life would eventually end in Death. This fact they called Time. Shackled to Day and Night, Time crept ever onward, bringing Death to Life, as was Life’s request.
Mortal Plants, knowing that Life was finite, made the most of every Day and Night. Every tree and shrub and blade of grass knew that those they cared for would soon be gone, and so they treasured every moment spent together. This fact they called Love. They did not resent Death, since Love, uniquely amongst the primordial concepts, must by its very nature approve of itself and that which makes it possible. Thus, Plants Loved Life and Death equally.
Sorrowful Mother Earth looked upon her children and wept. She could not bear to witness her children accepting Death as easily as they accepted Life. For Life to have Meaning, she reasoned, it must Love itself above all else.
Cautious Plants said unto Mother Earth, “Mother Earth, refrain from creating Life that fights Death, for fighting that which is inevitable can only bring Pain.”
Unyielding Mother Earth paid no heed. From herself, she created a new form of Life, nurtured not by Day and Night, but by self-Love. This second form of Life became Animals. Mother Earth created Rivers, from which they might drink, and Mountains, that she might encircle them in her arms and keep them safe.
Self-Loving Animals feared Death above all else. In their efforts to avoid it, they learned to run and hide and build shelters. Every waking moment was spent preserving Life, as it is to this Day. The Plants were proven right, in that the futility of fighting Death brought Animals Pain, but so too was Mother Earth. As she had hoped, Animals experienced not only Pain, but also Pleasure, and the search for Pleasure gave their lives Meaning.
Both Plants and Animals, when contemplating the other, thought themselves the better off. “The grass is always greener,” said the grass, “for its contentment with what it has. What need have we of happiness?” “Why settle for a Life unfulfilled,” replied the grasshopper, “when you can live in search of happiness? What need have we of contentment?”
Weary Mother Earth, now satisfied with her creations, at last laid down to rest.
When Tanya finished telling her story, everyone bowed their heads in silent thanks, followed by a short discussion on the meaning of the story.
A few more animals took turns after Tanya to tell their own short stories, with genres including adventure, mystery, romance and horror. Each was met with the same respectful silence, and the occasional group discussion on the themes and characters of the story.
Unlike the other two groups Mei had seen, which had a definite ending after which everyone left, people drifted away from the group gradually until only a few were left. Eventually, only Tanya, Takkan, Kuro-san and a few others remained, in addition to Gabu and Mei.
The discussion on the last story morphed into a conversation on storytelling in general, a topic that Takkan was happy to talk about at length until Tanya officially declared Anything Day over and everyone began to depart.
“That was really fun,” Mei told Tanya. “I can see why this is everyone’s favourite group.”
“I’m glad you liked it. What do you think of the other groups?”
“Theatre Day was a lot of fun as well; I’m really touched that our story means so much to people that they’re putting all that work into the play. I’m still getting used to Philosophy Day, but I think I might learn to like it if I keep going enough times.” Takkan had left by this point, so Mei wasn’t worried about the fox overhearing. “Today has been much more relaxing than either of them, though. I think it might be my favourite too.”
Tanya smiled. “That’s nice to hear. I’ll look forward to seeing you again next time.”
It wasn’t quite dark yet, so when Tanya had gone, Gabu and Mei laid down on the grass at the foot of the hill and watched the sunset together.
“Gabu,” Mei said after a while, “what does ‘by the moon’s claws’ mean? I’d never heard you say that until yesterday.”
Gabu looked confused for a moment. “Oh, right, I must have said that when I was with Jess and Gon.” He looked almost ashamed of having done so. “I don’t really know what it means, now that I think about it. It’s just a thing some of the wolves in my pack used to say. I don’t think it’s very polite; I’m not sure why I said it.”
“I don’t mind,” Mei said, in case that’s what Gabu was worried about. Indeed, that did seem to reassure him. “It’s just that you seem to act a little differently when you’re around the other wolves. More...wolfish, I guess. I just wanted to make sure you’re not going out of your way to be more goat-like for my sake.”
Gabu was silent for a while. “I suppose I do do that from time to time. I know you’ll like me no matter how I talk and act, but I started doing it, trying to be more polite, before I knew that. This was back when I was worried you’d stop wanting to see me because I’m a wolf. And I guess I’ve never had a reason to stop doing it, so I kept going.”
“Do you want to stop doing it now?” Mei asked.
He gave that due consideration. “No, not really. I think I like myself better the way I act now. It’s not that I’m pretending to be someone different; I’ve just found myself changing slightly since I met you, and I’m okay with that. Being around other wolves makes me go back to old habits, I suppose.”
Mei smiled. “So long as you’re happy, that’s fine.” He shuffled closer to Gabu and licked the wolf’s face.
Gabu licked him back. “Hey, maybe you could try being more wolf-like once in a while, just for fun?”
Mei grinned mischievously. “Oh, you want to play that game again, do you?” He made a low growl, shifted his legs beneath him and threw himself into Gabu’s side. They ended up rolling together in a way that reminded Mei he had yet to put Kuro-san’s advice into practice. Another time, perhaps.
“Meeeeh,” Gabu bleated. “Please, someone help me!”
It was at that moment that Mei happened to look up and see Greta staring at them, eyes wide, from a short distance away. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
Gabu, noticing Greta’s presence a moment after Mei did, gave a bark of alarm and rolled back onto his feet. “Hello, Greta. We were just...playing.”
“I could see that. I was thinking of holding a Story Telling Day tomorrow, if you two would be interested.”
“Didn’t we just do that today?” Mei asked.
“She means our story,” Gabu explained.
“Oh, right.”
“Indeed,” Greta said. “Many of the animals who saw you two today haven’t heard it yet, or wanted to hear it again from your perspective, Mei.”
“I’d be happy to help tell our story to anyone who wants to hear it,” Mei said. “I suppose there’s a little more to it now than last time I told it, what with everything that’s been going on since we first arrived here.”
“It has been an honour to become a part of it,” Greta said. “I feel certain that people will be telling your tale for generations to come.”
Mei let that sink in.
“Tell anyone who wants to come to meet us here at the usual time,” Gabu said.
Greta nodded and walked back to the forest.
“I still have no idea how she always seems to know what the entire forest is thinking,” Gabu said when Greta had gone.
“Everyone probably knows by now to go to her if they want something.”
“They could just as easily come to us.”
“And then we’d never get any rest.” Mei looked around to make sure they were really alone this time. “Do you want to go back to the game? I could chase you around the hill.”
“I’m sure a hungry wolf like you would rather eat a tasty squirrel than a goat like me. Look,” Gabu pointed behind Mei, “there’s one over there.” By the time Mei had looked back around, Gabu was already halfway around the hill.
“Come back here!” Mei growled and set off in pursuit of his prey.