(no subject)

Behind a fallen pine tree, Dyani crouched with her arrows slung across her back and bow in hand. She was hoping to catch some turkeys, or better yet a hart, but even coneys would do. They were low on meat, and due to drought, the grain harvest wasn't as plentiful this year. Every hunter was out trying to remedy this lack before the winter snows hit.

While she was hunting, the rest of the village were busily gathering late season squashes, tubers and berries. Every village for hundreds of miles had the same corn and grain problems with the ongoing drought, and the white men were driving the game away. The only thing they had a lot of were furs. Yet even the beaver and otter were now becoming scarce.

The Shawnee could take their furs to the fort for trade but the English cheated the first people, often giving them grain with weevils in it, or trying to foist whiskey upon them. The only thing firewater was good for was a sore head, and the elders forbid it in their camp.

Dyani learned the art of the hunt from her older brother, Tauri. She worshipped her brother, following him everywhere when she was a young child. Tauri returned her love and taught her everything he knew about trapping squirrels and coneys.

He showed her how to fish, using both spear and trap, and how to throw a knife and tomahawk. He also taught her how to make and string a bow, the carving of arrows, tipping them with flint or stone, and how to fletch them with turkey feathers. The elders frowned upon her learning warrior arts at first, but slowly recognized how her skill could help the village.

Dyani missed her brother dearly. two years ago he had gone to check the trout traps when a black bear attacked him. Her family's heart still hadn't healed.

The elders were convinced that The Creator had Tauri teach her to hunt so skillfully in order to help their village and her parents survive in his absence. She would gladly give it all up just to see his smile and hear his laughter again.

Dyani took a moment to sip from her waterskin, swirling the cool liquid around her mouth before she swallowed. A twig snapped somewhere on her left. Turning her head slowly toward the noise she narrowed her eyes so the whites wouldn't give her away.

A five point buck stood upwind from her grazing on the underbrush. She ever so slowly nocked her arrow, pulling it back in increments. The stag still grazed, unaware of the danger it was in. Moving slightly to target its heart Dyani let the arrow fly.

The buck heard the whirring of the arrow, but was struck before it could dart away. Adrenaline caused it to take off and the chase was on. The buck could easily keep going for miles before suddenly dropping. Dyani kept an even pace with it, listening for the sound of breaking brush. Every now and again she'd stop to let another arrow fly. It was beautiful in its flight and Dyani started to sing a song of gratitude for the stag's sacrifice.

The buck began to slow and stumble after a few miles. Within a few yards more it fell to the ground and lay down its head. Dyani reverently approached it, chanting softly and thanking it again for its sacrifice to feed her people. Stroking the buck's neck she took out her ceremonial bowl and knife, quickly slitting its throat and gathering some of its warm blood in the bowl. Praying over the bowl she drank from it and spilled the rest onto the ground thanking the Creator for sending her the buck.

She slit its belly and removed the organs, taking a bite of the liver. After wrapping the rest of the organs in hide, she made a travois, again praising The Creator for favoring her hunt today. She knew how much it would help her people. Not a single piece of the buck would go to waste.

Dyani prayed the other hunters were smiled upon by The Creator too. She sang another prayer in thanks and set off for camp.

Today was a good day.