December 1, 2013
“It’s the Bowhands, the Bowhands,” Little Quon chants.
“Shut up,” I hiss. It’s the Bowhands, yes, but there’s others out there as well. Animals. Others.
Little Quon makes a face and flexes his bow. A few metres ahead, a squirrel falls down from a tree.
“I couldn’t care less about your hunting skills,” I say, “let’s have the odds in our favour.”
Three men on my left, three on my right. Two crawlers. I am Hunter today, which means that I can call the orders. I’m thinking we’re going for something larger than a squirrel. At least if I want any of the girls to bend for me tonight.
Little Quon gets his squirrel handed to him by Mose, our most skilled crawler. The fact that I hadn’t even seen him until now proves my point. Yesterday Grenn told me he and Mose sometimes held crawl-competitions while hunting. He has to learn so much still.
I touch my bow lightly. The crawlers, Grenn, they don’t have to do much. Just scout ahead and try not to be seen. It’s quite an easy task my brother has there. Sure, there’s room for competitions for him. I’m in the center. I can’t have mishaps. If I’m not in time shooting my prey, they’d probably trample me. You can’t be used as a center if you’re not strong enough.
Mose gives the wolf sign. I’m annoyed. If there’s any wolves here, we won’t see much larger animals. Especially not on the ground. Sometimes we couldn’t spot any running wild and would have to hunt for small animals the entire day, just to make up for it in meat. A squirrel isn’t a trophy. Maybe that’s why Little Quon is still so green.
The bowmen are facing all sides of the forest. We can all feel the ground shaking.
“Crawlers up,” I command. You won’t do any good facing a herd while on the ground.
“To the left,” Wreyn says. Black bear, that one. Ridiculously strong arms.
We look to our left. A doe rams into my shoulder. READ MORE