At dawn, as the sky gradually brightened, the previously quiet Semi-Farming Tribe began to stir with activity.
People of the Semi-Farming Tribe bustled about, and amidst this busyness, the aroma of food began to spread throughout the settlement.
Within the simple courtyards and outside of them, those working in the fields would occasionally sniff the air and glance back toward the tribe, drawn by the enticing smell.
But not all eyes were on the place where food was being cooked. Many gazes were fixed instead on the area where a group of people was being held captive.
That captive group, from a tribe known as the “Green Sparrow Tribe,” had received exquisite pottery and, more importantly, had managed to hunt a significant number of sheep.
This news had already spread throughout the Semi-Farming Tribe.
Now, before the people of the Sheep Tribe who had refused to divulge the “secret” of the pottery the previous night, the tribe’s priestess stood again with a piece of sheepskin in hand. Just like last night, she repeated a particular phrase every so often.
However, even after all had been beaten, none of the Sheep Tribe captives spoke a word.
This outcome made the chieftain furious. He clenched his fists, ready to resume the beatings, but the priestess stopped him.
She took the chieftain along and walked toward another group of Sheep Tribe people—those who had revealed the “secret” about the pottery the previous night.
The priestess was a clever woman. She had a vague understanding of human psychology.
Since these people had already disclosed the highly valuable secret about pottery, she reasoned it should be natural for them to reveal the secret about sheep now.
Yet what followed left her stunned.
Despite their fear, and despite trembling in pain from the beatings, none of them would say a word about the sheep.
This puzzled the priestess deeply—she who was known throughout the Semi-Farming Tribe for her wisdom.
The chieftain, too, was confused, though his confusion was laced with anger.
He stared furiously at the captives, then reached down to grab another to resume the beating—but was once again stopped by the priestess.
The chieftain questioned the priestess, wondering why she was stopping him.
To him, the only reason these people hadn’t spoken was that the beatings weren’t harsh enough yet.
But the priestess shook her head and patted her chest.
She meant that solving this issue required thought and wisdom.
This gesture—patting the chest—was a tradition passed down by generations of priestesses in the Semi-Farming Tribe as a symbol of wisdom.
They believed the heart was a vital and sacred source. It never stopped beating while a person was alive, but ceased entirely in death.
So, they linked this ever-beating heart to the concept of wisdom.
Although the logic was somewhat flawed, there was no denying that past priestesses had indeed drawn their insights from this idea.
Seeing the priestess solemnly pat her chest, the chieftain finally gave up beating the captives.
The priestess slowly walked back to her thatched hut, still holding the sheepskin, with the chieftain following closely behind.
Once inside, she placed the sheepskin on the ground and sat down slowly, eyes full of contemplation.
The chieftain stood silently nearby, waiting for the wise priestess to resolve this matter.
After a while, the priestess turned her head and slowly asked the chieftain what he intended to do with the captured Sheep Tribe members.
The question caught the chieftain off guard.
Until now, his only concern had been getting them to reveal how they were able to hunt so many sheep at once. He had never considered what to do with them afterward.
As he thought it over, even without consulting the priestess, something didn’t feel quite right about either option.
Yet if he didn’t dispose of them somehow, how could his tribe afford to support so many extra mouths?
After all, food was already scarce.
After thinking it through, all he could do was shake his head.
He was also puzzled—wasn’t the discussion about how to extract the secret of the sheep from these people? Why was the wise priestess now talking about what to do with them?
The priestess ignored his confusion. After a brief pause, she began to explain her idea.
As she spoke, the chieftain’s mouth slowly fell open in shock.
What she said was astonishing:
She wanted to have these people join their tribe!
Never mind how to feed them after they joined—even the idea of them agreeing to join seemed utterly impossible.
In his eyes, he and his warriors had stormed their settlement, stolen all their prey, and even abducted them.
Since last night, they had barely been fed and were beaten multiple times.
How could these people possibly choose to join his tribe?
Even the act of stealing their prey was enough to plant the seeds of bloody hatred.
But the priestess shook her head gently at the chieftain’s doubts.
She assured him: they would join.
Once they joined, they could be taught how to pull weeds, plant and harvest fruits, and raise livestock. As they became part of the tribe, they would naturally reveal the secret of the sheep.
Though she spoke with confidence, the chieftain still found it hard to believe. So much had happened—how could they ever agree to join the very tribe that had attacked them?
This time, the priestess offered no further explanation. She told him to follow her.
Then, without another word, she turned and bent down to step out of the grass hut…