** I wrote this story in my teens. I hope you enjoy. It is not very graphic but I started reading it to my 5-year-old who started to look nervous and scared while I got more into the story as it is about hunting so of course I stopped reading it to him. I don’t recommend reading it if you are 5 or don’t like the idea of hunting.**
Struggling to keep her balance she reached down and pushed against the ground with the palm of her hand. Her knees were weakening from kneeling for so long. She braced her left hand against the ground and held her spear with her right. She ran her fingers against the roughness of it. Briefly casting her eyes down on the spear, her eyes glanced upon the cracks seeping through it. Her fingers could feel the indented marks of past slivers.
To the left of her she could hear the rustling sounds of something moving in the bush. Gripping the spear, holding it up to her shoulders in a throwing stance she was ready for it to approach. Her heart pounded deep with in her chest. Could it hear it?
She held her breath as long as she could and gasped for air softly only once in awhile. Her skin bubbled with excitement. A warm, heated sense of strength was entering her body, from Mother Earth’s skin below her.
She could see the boar now. It was standing in the clearing — she had made it earlier that day. It was nibbling on the grass and broom below it. It faced it’s rear towards her. Its tail twitched the flies away. It was a juvenile, it’s small tusks could be only used for jewelry.
Silently she stood up. It continued nibbling. She aimed her spear , while closing her almond shape blue eyes. Concentrating on the words which were beginning to form in her thoughts. Words, Ma-oki; the great hunter of her tribe had spoken to her with others, a hunter must always thank the animal. For the animal has sacrificed its life for our tribe. She kept her eyes shut. This time she began to form words of gratitude towards the boar. It was allowing her to kill its body for the tribe to except her as a hunter, not a child.
Opening her eyes she let the spear go into a mighty throw. The boar heard the spear but did not know from which direction it was coming so it ran forward. It only ran a few feet before being caught by the the tip of the spear. The boar stopped in its tracks and fell side ways, still alive, breathing heavily.
She reached the boar a few seconds after the spear. It’s breathing was beginning to lessen and, its eyes were starting to glaze over. Quickly she thrust her knife deep until she reached the heart. There was no need to have it suffer.
Hot, red juices seeped from the cut, ran down the skin on to the ground. She dipped her forefingers in the hot juices and began to smear the juice against her oval shaped face. Drawing ancient symbols of death upon her smooth skin. These symbols, symbolized she had killed her first kill. The juices dried against her skin, tightening it.
Bending down close to the skin of the boar she began to lick the juices flowing out of the cut. Her tongue could taste the sweetness of the boar. Her saliva would stop the rest of the juices from oozing out. Pulling her spear from the hole it had enlarged she decided against licking the blood. Instead she took some leaves and whipped against it until it stopped. The blood coming from the rear was not something she wanted to put her tongue against.
Standing she looked through the branches above her into the blue sky. The light from Mother’s sun shown down as if just for her. She began to howl. At first it was soft. Something deep within her wanted to come out. Cupping her hands against her lips her howl began to sharpen. She was crying out her war cry. From now until death this will come from deep within allowing others to know she has killed. She held the note of her cry at the tip of her tongue, she could taste the wind passing from where it had come and turn into this cry.
She stopped, exhausted. Her first hunt was over. She drifted her hand against the clean skin. Feeling the hair bend back. As she pressed her palms against the now still body, she thanked the boar once more.
Pulling a vine down to tie the boars feet up. Gripping the vine she flung the boar against her back. She reached down to where her spear had fallen and began her journey back to the tribe. Leaning on the spear for support. The warm gift of strength from mother earth stayed with her.
Sweat swam down her face on to her neck and shoulders as she entered camp. Her hand was holding the spear tightly, slivers stuck into her fingers. Not caring she continued walking to the center where Ma-oki’s hut was with the boar. On the left of her the old and the men, who were too weak to hunt stopped their work. Women stopped exercising to watch a child become a hunter.
She walked past her mother, who winked to her with pride. She continued walking, carrying the boar. Eventually she reached Ma-oki who was standing in front of her mud dried hut. Her male sat beside her, beating in a bowl. He did not look up.
Ma-oki’s hair was tied back with feathers into a tight braid. Her tanned tunic hanged loosely against her dried skin. Her face showed old age but her eyes expressed the power she held with in. Ma-oki studied the girl swaying in front of her.
She had let loose her spear,allowing it to fall to the ground. Her jaw was clamped tightly together. Her face and arms displayed ancient markings, which symbolized she had killed her first kill.
Ma-oki held up her hands reaching for the dark sky. The rest of the villagers spied the girl standing with the boar on her back. Silence hung in the air. The girl placed the boar down in front of her.
“Te-ok-itee is now a hunter!”
Taking a deep breath Ma-oki began her own war cry. Howling deeply. Other hunters began their cries. Eventually the young and the old women began the yell in support. Te-ok-itee stood still until the crying died out. She then began to howl. Twice she cried her war cry. Both times she let go everything she knew as a child. Her mind began to open, she was now a hunter of the tribe. Her childhood was gone.