As soon as she could walk, Kimimela was asking questions. Simple questions at first; how did the flowers bloom, why was the sky quite so blue? What made the stream flow one way and not the other? All of these and many, many more were patiently answered by the adults around her, but like many curious children, answers only led to more questions. And soon enough, those questions weren't quite so simple anymore; how do I choose who to share my extra snacks with? If I hurt someone how do I make them feel better? Answers became longer, and more complex, but they were still always there, the adults around the young bison able to bring some perspective, advice, or response together.
'Mimi' recalls the day she asked something that had no answer. She had been playing with a butterfly in the prairie, dancing and leaping between the wildflowers, when a passing flycatcher swooped down on the wing, fluttered his wings in greeting, and shot back into the sky... but not without snagging a small snack on the wing. Shocked, Mimi had retreated to her mother and related the whole tale. Distraught, she tried to understand what had happened, why one animal might eat another, and at last when her mother answered that it was how nature was, that sometimes one thing needed to eat another to survive, Mimi sniffled and asked why butterflies were okay, and why fish were okay, but other animals weren't, and what made a butterfly so different from a bird, or a bison? At which, all her mother could do is to shake her head, murmuring that maybe she'd understand better when she was older.
Mimi isn't sure that she understands any better these days. Really, it seems to her that growing up has only led to more and more questions with difficult answers, or simply no answers at all. And yet she cannot help but to keep asking them, thinking about what it means to make others happy or to do 'what's right'. Fortunately for the young bison, it was questions like these that caught the attention of another bison, revered and respected across all the bands of creatures who lived and traveled the great plains at the heart of the Mycorzhan Isles. And so it was that one day while sitting atop a small rise in the grass, under the shade of a small burr oak, Kimimela was joined by another. Elder Tanaka, one of the most well spoken and respected leaders of her band, casually sat down beside her and asked her about her day, leaving her to stumble and stammer something, rising to cede the space to him. He only smiled gently, patted the ground, and asked her if she wouldn't stay and provide an old creature some company while the sun settled towards the horizon.
The following few years have left Mimi's head truly spinning at all of the changes that have occurred in her life. Brought into the Elder's shade, she was brought to meeting fires, met other leaders amongst the prairie bands, and found that her questions were not foolish or misdirected, but the stuff of hours-long conversation by those who the bands all looked to for guidance. As she sat and listened long into the nights she found her timidity slowly peeling away under the gentle support of Tanaka, until she felt sure enough to raise a hoof and ask questions of her own. The notice this has brought down upon her sent her spiraling into anxiety at first, but she righted her mind and continued to wade back into the thick of the conversations, until now she speaks with a confidence that, in her own mind, is only sometimes feigned.
Stepping into adulthood and the responsibilities of being a leader has had its downsides as well. Mimi finds her relationships drifting, fading, re-settling into new shapes and ties. Her friend group is full of other young adults from across the Isles, brought together by messages, moot-visits, and a common conversation of what it means to listen and learn from the elders at the fires. There is less time for family, and old friendships and acquaintances fade or fray and leave aches and hurts behind, and questions which Mimi ponders late at night, gazing up into the stars. Still, even if she does feel lost more often than not, she remains certain that this is her calling, and that her hooves are on the path she wants to tread.
