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Wild

WILD
PART I
THE FISHING TRIP
Copyright by Jared Sande2013
“And then, it came. Tall as the mountains, black as night, glowing eyes red, as blood.”
“The beast of death?”
“The beast of death,” he answered his seven-year-old son, whose eyes were wide open as he
paid absolute attention. “So massive was this beast, that its steps shook the very foundations of
the earth. So scary was it, that it sent fear, into the souls of men. Warriors threw down their
weapons, women screamed, children cried and ran, all of them escaped, all of them, but one. ”
“The boy?”
“The young boy, he stood alone, blunt sword in hand! Courage in heart! Facing the monster
charging, towards him!” he paused, as the boy‟s pupils enlarged a little more as he stared at him
across the fire, his face filled with both great expectation and fear.
“What happened?” he very curiously asked, as his serious- faced father slowly looked down
at the fire.
“That will wait until the next time?” he replied after some silence, “go to bed now.”
The fire at the center lit the one-roomed, fairly spacious house, whose well finished mud
walls were fitted with uneven, rugged, but proper wooden shelves. The shelves were stacked full
with food supplies: roasted fish, roasted beef, and reed baskets half filled with both „leafy‟ and
„rooty‟ vegetables among other foodstuffs.
On the dung-plastered floor under the shelves, were two „beds‟ on opposite sides of the fire.
Low, flat, wooden frames stacked with layers of softened, furry hides. Along the rest of the
walls, were different tools and weapons, which included two, very furry, back quivers containing
several long arrows, two sharp daggers, two, wooden frame, recurved composite bows, baskets,
folded fishing nets, and utensils.
With his strong, hard, callused left hand, the serious- faced man gently pushed a piece of
firewood further into the fire, feeding it as his son slowly fell asleep. W hile holding his arms
around his knees, he watched the wood crack up into the warming flames.
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