2 - The Start of Adventure

High above, on the edge of a narrow outcrop of mount Onna wrestled two mighty stones. One was called Jade, another Malachite. Pressing against each other at their peaks since plants were scarce and bright merely a dim veil, neither was showing any signs of wear nor tear, or erosion in their banter.

“I am a boulder, what business to me are you, pebble?” Boomed Malachite. “Observe my stripes if you desire intensity of pattern.”

“Quick to speak as always,” responded Jade calmly. “Show off something that’s not jagged. I won’t fault you for hiding in a cave from my flawless surface.”

“A jest, and not one too bad. I give you that. But stop making me laugh for it might wake this mountain from a well-deserved nap. Go instead and rest in a salt flat. There, you can boast about being greener than grass.”

“Jade me. Calling yourself greener than me is an unbright to our many dreams of Paislies. There, forests asked for my blessing to imitate my green for their leaves.”

“My point precisely, green in dreams only.” Malachite scuffed and pushed on.

Lined against the mountain wall from short to tall, oldest to youngest, a bunch of four mint springs were observing in awe. Though they had collectively agreed that each one of them individually was greener than both rocks combined, they were split on their support for the wrestling giants.

Ek, the shortest and Se, which was second to last, were in favor of Jade but didn’t care much for its banter. Du, which was only slightly taller than Ek but well below Se, supported Malachite.

Chahar, the tallest and quietest of the four, was on Du’s side just so it wasn’t two against one, but it hadn’t declared it out loud. Rather, it had calmly suggested in more ways than one, “Let’s see what happens.” But Du had a hunch that Chahar, too, was for Malachite.

The members of this mint bunch already had and would forever have any creation know that theirs was not just any mint bunch. They were a Dasteh. In mint terms, a Dasteh was a rare grouping of springs that untangled itself from their Settled Mints at exactly the same time to form a bunch.

Since the Great Migration* It has been well understood among herbs that mint Dastehs prefer to root among Adventure Mints away from the gardens. Although, if one asked a Settled Mint, the response would be, “Don’t they all eventually return?”

Over bright generations, Adventure Mints and even Dastehs had redefined “adventure” to mean only a short distance away. Now, there were popular hubs on the nearest hills, around the fern forest or under well-tested rocks that were familiar mild getaways. What was most comforting to those mints was that this way, they were bound to run into each other and form long-chained conversations about where they’d been. But in this, Dastehs kept to themselves, mainly because as the most talkative of their species, they had enough to discuss without having to include others in.

No creation had a recollection of the pre-migration times. Not even ancient mountains, let alone giant rocks in the Monolith Basin. Generation after generation, passed down songs were the only reminder of a time when mountains and plants had once adventured together. Until the whole Giti got a small but bright taste of it in the most recent dream. And for a special bunch of mints, that changed everything.

Immediately after the rosemaries’ Mihmani, the newly-formed Dasteh had huddled for a meeting. There, Ek, Du, Se and Chahar had mutually agreed that it did not suffice to root nearby. That they could not be content with merely listening to old songs. There and then, the four mints vowed to aim for an adventure that’d make them the subject of songs future creations would sing about. And to that end, they had concluded there was only one adventure that would gain them the status they craved: to find out if Jajeem Valley of the dancing Paislies was real and if so, where it was located.

The Dasteh had set off right after their huddle with, “May soil guide our way,” as their starting prayer. First, they passed the Settled Mints and shortly after, the Adventure Mints, both of which argued, “Even Na’ana returned, so why leave to begin with?” 

“Because we’re not just any Dasteh of mints.” And with that, the bunch was well on its way. Past the gardens would have come the inquisitive silence of ferns, which the four mints avoided by taking a longer route through busy grasslands revealed to them by a friendly basil bunch as a parting gift. Once they had reached the southernmost blade of grass, it said to the Dasteh, “Here, by some distance to your left, the last fern called Kerm is planted.”

For a moment, the mints stood still, leaves reaching outward in gratitude, joy bubbling in their stems. They had reached the edge of the gardens’ experience, beyond which lay only things they knew through songs. Then as one, they rooted forward and felt the immediate change in bright. The soil was open and silent, coarser and in every way different than what lay behind. 

The Dasteh gladly filled the silence with their own conversations, but the texture of the soil was making it harder for their roots to move. Finally, they climbed out on top, which they’d never done before. For a short distance, until they got used to it, communication became muffled but not enough to discourage them from talking. Balancing on top of the soil was more difficult for Se and Chahar due to their heights, but they quickly realized that the secret was in swaying their leaves in front of their stems to better support forward motion.

After a while, however, the soil was not even coarse but solid like the crust of rocks. “Has this patch ever been rooted on?” Ek thought out loud. Before any of its comrades had a chance to respond, the soil under them suddenly shifted, testing the mints’ young stems as they bent forward and back desperate not to fall. This happened twice more before a large root lifted the Dasteh from underneath. Holding on tight by the tips of their roots, the mints all said at once, “Root knows root,” confirming to each other that they had come in contact with another plant.

“And how kind the roots that brought you here. Brightest greetings dears that we detect are not from so near,” came a gentle chorus, “Forgive our soil manners, for we haven’t had a visitor for as long as our new trees can remember.”

All the while, underneath the soil was being churned by giant roots until finally it stopped and the surface was made smooth. Only then the mints were lowered back down onto a pillow of soil so soft, it made the memory of their garden feel rough. The Dasteh immediately spread its roots and found itself among not one, but many tall trees with white trunks and evenly-spaced, bright yellow leaves. “We’ve made it to a forest, our first one,” they exclaimed.

However, before the mints could perform a celebration dance, the soil under them shifted again, but not as much this time. The trees were curling their roots in laughter. “You have come to a clonal colony, dear herbs. Could you tell us your bright type and names, for we are too happy and excited and therefore unable to make a correct guess.”

The mints introduced themselves with an addition of, “We are not just any bunch but a Dasteh,” which prompted them to tell the trees about the gardens, Adventure and Settled Mints, the Mihmani, why they were there and all the rest. The trees listened patiently, overjoyed to once more be with company and receiving news of other places in Giti. When the mints had finally finished talking, they asked the trees what they’d meant by clonal colony.

“Our dear guests. Like your bright Dasteh, this vast grove is unique in a big way. What you perceive as tall quavering aspens speaking is just not the case. It is the root out of which our trunks rise that welcomes you here.” There was a slight pause, then the soft chorus continued with a gentle hint of pride,”We have no ancestors. We are the elder and the sapling, creator and created. And for so long we had forgotten what soft soil felt until your bright Dasteh arrived. Thank you for reminding us of our leaves and branches.”

This time, the mints could not contain themselves and performed the celebration dance in honor of their host.

“That was fun,” said the colony with the excitement of a young plant. “Will you teach us?”

One by one, the mints demonstrated their parts separately, then performed the dance together to show how it all came together.

There was a long silence after, during which the mints did not know what the grove was thinking.

“How remarkably beautiful your visit has been.” Said the root kind and elderly. “Of creations we remember, you truly are the most unique we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Is there anything that we can help with for your journey?”

The Dasteh decided that they should ask for directions, and they did.

“You seek the valley in our dream. We do not have a memory of it being real. But we heard from the deep-dwelling fungal networks that elder oaks thought if the valley did exist, it could only be hidden behind the folding walls of the mountain that sleeps.”

“Mount Onna,” the mints cried excitedly.

The grove did not respond.

“But that’s where creations get lost.”

To this the aspens’ root said warmly, “A tale, that’s all. Most, if not all, never found it to begin with and thought they got lost. To visit that first mountain you must be invited by its rocks. They will lead you to their slope and carry you up. They might have led you here and continue to guide you afterward. But there is no way of knowing for although hidden to us, the mountain’s reach is far, wide and wise.”

“And if we weren’t invited?” asked Ek.

“Then, you will root to Giti’s other parts. That's an adventure, is it not?”

For a while, the mints did not respond. Their host was right. After a brief huddle, the mints decided they were going to continue on. “We have much to learn to return to the gardens now,” was their final response.

“Excellent,” The root responded with the quiet confidence of an ancient. “May you find that valley of our dreams, most adventurous Dasteh of mints. Gracious guests and friends. Stick together and don’t leave each others’ company.”

The final remark in the root's farewell slightly confused the mints as it was incomprehensible for a Dasteh to ever not be in each other’s company. Even at the Mihmani when they had unbunched to join the circle, they were still connected by thought-memories. The mints thanked their kind host and said goodbye.

After that adventure, the Dateh rooted in the vast and empty, fertile soil, wondering about the enormity of distances in Giti. But Chahar made a sound point and others agreed, that what may have seemed long to them would probably be but a rock-length for mountains that had roamed that space. And as that conversation was in motion, the Dasteh once more felt a slow changing of the soil as it became clumpier and mixed with silent pebbles. At first there were a few here and there and the mints found it amusing having to round their roots around them. However as more kept lining their way, the journey was becoming a slow puzzle to thread through.

Finally, the Dasteh decided to stop and rest. Spreading their roots in odd patterns between rocks, Ek asked the others, “Do you think this is what bright aspens were talking about?”

“I thought we were going to be lifted,” commented Du.

“Maybe this is the way of rocks,” Ek responded.

“I sense a presence,” added Se. Chahar agreed with that assessment. Ek and Du focused their attention.

Once confirmed where, Se and Chahar took the lead and the Dasteh was on its way. As they neared, they found a plant unknown to them in a heated debate with itself. When they got even closer, they sensed a bunch of Atris floating around its branches. Some uni-flowered, others had blossoms on each end of their short, rootless stems, and one even had three, all changing colors per the plant’s answers to itself.

“No, no no, that is not the correct direction,” argued the plant. “Of course it’s not wrong, but there has to be a better way. I remember being told of it.” The Atris around its branches went from bright blues, to pinks, violets and greens.

The mints greeted the plant, but didn’t get one back. They tried again, and again the plant was too busy talking to itself to notice them. On the third try, Ek and Du sent a short but louder root signal and that caught the creation’s attention.

“Dear bright,” exclaimed the plant.

The mints introduced themselves one by one, this time without any additions, and waited for the plant to do the same. But it took a long time. The plant was stunned. Finally, Se and Chahar said, “Forgive us for intruding, but we are visitors and wanted to ask where we are. We will be on our way now and leave you in peace and bright.”

“Mints. Haven’t met one since Nanaa passed here. It has been a long time since.”

“Na’ana?” the mints tried to confirm, unable to hide their excitement. Na’ana’s legends were so old for herbs that it seemed impossible for any of them to run into a creation that had met the famous mint.

“Ah, yes, that’s how it pronounced its name. Oh dear. I am a Way-to-Go Sumac Tree. Though the last time I helped a traveling creation with directions, I was young and had many more Atris as company. Now I just try to keep remembering the knowledge I don’t share or practice.” The mints could tell by the tree’s spreading foliage that in its day it had been a handsome creation with branching limbs. Now, instead of green it was red and its speech was lost and contemplative.

Se spoke up for the Dasteh. “Dear Way-to-Go Sumac tree. You are needed still, for we want to ask about where we are and where we are going. But first, my fellow mints and I were wondering if you could tell us your memories of Na'ana, the famous mint.”

“Famous?” the tree asked. “I didn’t know anything about that but Na’ana was a young mint with many adventure dreams. It was looking for a direction that wasn’t mine to give.”

“Where was that?” Se asked.

The tree thought for a moment, its Atris weightless and graceful about its drying branches. “It wanted to go to the mountain. Yes. That’s what happened.”

“The mountain?”

“Yes, sleeping creator Onna.”

This startled the mints, as the Mint Rubaiyat made it clear that it had been by choice that Na’ana never made that adventure. “Did you not know the way yourself?”

“No creation does, but it exists. Only those chosen by its rocks find it.”

The mints didn’t say anything, which made the tree curious. Momentarily changing, the tree’s leaves shuddered and it asked pointedly, “Why are you here and where are you going? Surely not were Na’ana was asking?”

The mints decided in a quiet chat that it was best not to say anything so as not to upset the tree.

“I don’t recommend this adventure,” said the sumac tree, trying its best to answer measuredly. “Na’ana wasn’t alone in asking for those directions. If you say the mint became famous, it either found Onna and turned back, or took my advice and instead chose other adventures.” The tree took a moment and continued as though searching deep in its trunk for memories, “What my elder told me was that during the migration, there was an unbright event called, ‘Confusing,’ where creations would leave their new forests or mountain ranges because they couldn’t help themselves. Many of them were willing to wake the sleeping mountain to get clarity on the changes they were feeling. They ended up roaming endlessly in persuit of questions that didn’t need answering. The migration had its difficulties.”

This had all been new information to the mints. There were no songs or stories of that in the gardens or its surroundings, not by a long distance at least. It’d be impossible to keep this kind of information from herbs, even if only one fern in their combined forests knew of it. 

“No, no, no. There surely was a better way and I must remember it,” the tree returned to arguing with itself. Not as a gentle indication that it preferred the mints be on their way, but rather a lapse of memory that had convinced the tree that the mints were no longer even there.

The Dasteh quickly huddled. The decision to continue did not come easy this time. But in the end, they came to the conclusion that they had left their garden to reach this exact moment and be within root-distance of adventure. Quietly, the mints rooted on and away from the Way-to-Go Sumac. 

“I had forgot about the pebbly soil,” said Du after a short while, trying to break the silence.

Chahar detected a weak signal from behind, “What pebbles?” But Ek, Du and Se were talking and laughing and did not notice Sumac's surprised remark. “We should have visited the garden sage,” Ek joked, referring to claims made by sage bunches that one of their elders had a way of talking with ancient rocks. It was hard to accept for mints that any other herb had better communication skills with rocks than them. And so they never took that sage claim seriously.

“You should have,” said a voice matter of factly, zapping the mints’ roots. The Dasteh came to a complete halt, but most strikingly, they realized they were being carried forward by the pebbles surrounding their roots, their movement no longer their own. 

“How? why?” Exclaimed the mints.

“If you had, that bright sage would have told you how. We have guided you since the Mihmani of bright rosemaries as the quavering aspens had guessed. The why was not for us to decide, but for you to experience and find out.” 

Frozen in place, it took the mints a moment to comprehend the pebbles’ words as their lack of rhyme was unfamiliar and different to any other creation they had encountered. They also realized that in such a short time, they had been rolled a long distance to reach what seemed to be the end of soil and the edge of a mountain. Completely mesmerized, the Dasteh remained silent, observing the large rocks facing them. One, though it was impossible for the mints to know which asked, “What will you offer for adventure? Take your time and answer bright.”

“Ush-ta,” Chahar said out loud and confident. The swiftness and accuracy of the response surprised the other mints but greatly pleased the rocks. The word referred to the offering of all offerings. A gift above all others. And they had learned of it thanks to Tuta and bright Elderberry. When is it appropriate to give this gift? One young herb had asked the teaching couple. When the time is right, was the response. And this, the mints knew in their roots, leaves and stems, was the moment.

“Bright you are,” responded the rock.

One by one, from Ek to Chahar, the mints rooted forward feeling small before the enormity and number of rocks in front. There, four precious drops of bright were left on the lead stone and immediately absorbed. The effect had been immediate. The mints sensed a strengthening bond  to their adventure and a great appreciation for each other. 

“You have been invited to this mountain for a reason,” the rock explained. “But you will not root on it just yet, for the creator is in a very sensitive part of its rest. We understand that we must lift you to a contest between two rocks until further notice. Relax your roots and enjoy your journey in silence.” With that, rocks in a path began to shift and make slight turns. 

“Let’s see what happens,” said Chahar.

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Great Migration* - With the emergence of new creators after the Noble Act, there was a surge in the variety and numbers of creations. This, over a period of roughly seven-thousand mountain-lives, altered bright in unprecedented ways which made creations crave the comforts of predictability over adventure. Over the course of another seven-thousand mountain lives, Giti's creations separated themselves from each other. Hence the formation of gardens, forests, mountain regions, windstorm lands etc. These changes came at a great cost to creations, though the changes had been slow and across so many generations that creations could not fully comprehend why they acted so different than their ancestors in songs.