Donkey Duty and the Birth of New Skills
Chatting with the kids from my class, lunch time slipped away before I knew it.
"I'll head out first. I've got some prep to do before afternoon classes." Marie was the first to stand up. At her words, Annette—the girl we'd just met at the cafeteria today—waved goodbye with a cheerful grin.
"Sure thing~ See you after practice!"
Annette was a couple years older than us, the bright and chatty type.
"Oh, and Teresa doesn't know much yet, so fill her in on practice for me, okay?"
"Got it, got it~ Leave her to us and go on ahead."
After a quick farewell with Marie, and once she'd fully left, I knew it was about time for me to get up too.
"Afternoons are either theology classes or practice sessions."
Before I could even ask what I was supposed to do next, one of the kids beat me to it.
"What's theology class, and what's practice?"
"It's like vocational training." This time it was Isaac, the boy whose name I'd heard. I'd seen him in morning class too, but this was our first real talk. Among the kids my age, he seemed unusually mature.
"Theology class teaches you straight-up how to become a priest or nun." Isaac folded his fingers one by one, counting off past practices like he was tallying them, explaining calmly.
"Practice is everything outside church duties—farming, woodworking, embroidery, playing instruments, that sort of thing. It's hands-on experience for all the jobs we'll do once we leave the monastery."
The other kids chimed in too.
"Yesterday, us girls did embroidery and sewing, while the boys did woodworking."
"I think today it's livestock rearing."
"Theology drags on all afternoon, but once practice ends, we're free."
Morning worship and classes, then more classes in the afternoon without a break... Wasn't this a bit intense for kids our age?
"What are you guys doing?"
"Practice. Only Marie's taking theology."
"You can't just decide to become clergy."
Some special requirement, huh?
"Do you need special powers to become a nun?"
"Exactly. To be clergy, you have to manifest holy power. At our age, probably only Marie's done it."
So Marie was a nun-in-training... Huh.
Once lunch ended, we followed the kids outside. Excluding the infants, kids from 7 to 17 in monastery robes gathered in the courtyard—about 120 of them, by my rough count. Seeing so many at once was new, and realizing there were this many from other age groups was news to me too.
Adding in the theology students and the under-7s, the monastery probably housed around 200 kids total. I hadn't really thought about there being so many, but considering the place's size, it made sense.
I let my eyes wander, taking in the unfamiliar faces. Laughter echoing from somewhere, playful shoves, the heavy autumn sunlight settling in... It was all so fresh.
Then, my gaze caught a familiar group. Marco and his gang from yesterday's clash.
That's when it happened.
"..."
Marco turned his head and our eyes locked by chance. The moment they met, his glare wasn't just annoyance—it was raw resentment, like he was grinding his teeth behind that scowl.
...That guy's definitely plotting something.
I clicked my tongue and looked away. The breeze suddenly felt chillier.
According to Isaac, practice sometimes involved the whole group, other times split by age, gender, or whatever fit the day. Right on cue, four supervising nuns appeared, and we divided into four age-based teams.
I, of course, ended up in the youngest group, the elementary one. Most of the cafeteria kids my age joined me too, minus a few.
"Catch you later."
With quick goodbyes, Annette and the middle-schoolers headed off, and we gathered in front of our nun. Our elementary supervisor was Vanessa.
"Hmm, all here?" She gave a rough headcount, then started us moving.
...
A short while later, we arrived at the monastery's eastern edge, a pasture-style livestock pen at the base of a small hill. A wooden fence encircled the wide grassy field, with a packed dirt path beyond for hauling feed or supplies.
Following Vanessa through the big iron gate into the pen, a broad-shouldered middle-aged man with sun-tanned skin waited for her. His roughly tied hair and callused hands screamed long-time herdsman.
"Welcome, Sister."
"Take good care of the children."
"Of course, of course."
He exchanged a few words with her, then beckoned us over.
"Follow me."
The soft munching of hay, thick grass scent on the wind, goats' tangy musk—it all hit me. My eyes scanned automatically. About 50 sheep and goats grazed leisurely in the distance; around 100 chickens pecked feed in a coop by the fence.
No cows or pigs for slaughter, so mostly milk, eggs, wool animals, it seemed.
The herdsman stopped at the inner pen, sectioned by low stone walls—a donkey enclosure. Gray-coated donkeys slowly lifted their heads to stare, big round eyes and long ears twitching as they sniffed us out.
Next to us: sacks bulging with big carrots, old wooden buckets with handles, brushes with bristles, soft cloths for dusting off loose fur.
Water troughs and feed bins lined one side neatly; fresh hay blanketed the floor.
The man patted the carrot sack.
"Your job today: donkey care. But before you start, remember this—tending animals ain't just tossing carrots and calling it done."
He held up a brush and continued.
"First, brush off dust and dead hair. Check hooves regularly too—rocks or dirt in there cause limps."
He paused, scanning us, then added,
"Replace the hay in the stalls, refresh the water. Donkeys like it clean and dry."
The donkeys twitched their ears like they knew the drill, stepping closer with curiosity and "carrot time?" hope in their soft eyes.
"Carrots come after everything's done."
A small young donkey even nuzzled my chest, but I stuck to the script.
"Carrots after work's done."
It whipped its head away, shoved me, and trotted off.
That little...!
...
The work was way harder than expected. While other kids finished up and rewarded their donkeys, I hadn't even hit halfway.
Mine was named Dooli—the same brat that cozied up then sulked off when denied carrots. Coincidence or cosmic joke?
From the start, it rebelled: sidestepping when I tried to work, twisting away from the brush. It even butt-checked me into the hay and seemed to smirk.
"Hey, cut it out! I can't work like this!"
I yelled, but Dooli just flicked an ear and nodded at the carrots.
"...Not yet! Stay still if you want 'em sooner! You're making it take longer!"
I wiped sweat and tried brushing again, but it half-closed its eyes like 'Bet you won't last.'
This punk...
Then, a soft voice from behind.
"Need a hand?"
Isaac stood there.
"What about you?"
"I'm done."
He grabbed a brush, approached, and smoothly stroked Dooli's side. Dead fur and dust poured out.
"Mmmnya..."
His motions were quick yet steady; Dooli stayed put, weirdly calm. Brushing wrapped up fast—unlike with me.
"...You're good."
"Wasn't at first. You'll get the hang soon enough."
"Gotcha..."
He helped with the rest precisely, finishing quick. Finally, I fetched clean water for the trough, grabbed a handful of carrots, and returned to Dooli.
I held one out.
"Here."
Dooli snatched and crunched it instantly, then drooped its ears expectantly for more.
Still don't like this guy...
Annoying as it was, to wrap up, I gave the rest.
Gained experience in Animal Husbandry skill.
Life skill 'Animal Husbandry' unlocked.
Successfully communed with an animal for the first time.
Skill 'Animal Affinity' unlocked.
Gained experience in Animal Affinity skill.
→ Animal Affinity skill reached Lv. 1.
I'd half-expected Animal Husbandry, but Animal Affinity... what even was that?