of many rituals within our tribe.
In a long horizontal line stood my uncles, cousins and other relatives dear to my heart
began the pre-hunting chant. Father's last gaze and nod of his head told me to enter the
enchanting forest.
This is hopeless, utterly hopeless! I have broken away from the tribe to prove my name
and I am utterly hopeless! I shall forget the great names lionheart or hawkeye, because today
is a disaster. How naive I was to imagine myself hunting skillfully alongside Father: laughing,
joking and collecting food. But I'm nothing like Father when it comes to spearing an animal.
As soon as I left the others my eyes caught a glimpse of a hansom looking hare, with plenty of
meat on it. Silently my streamline spear's above my head and I hurled it in the direction of
the creature. Of course I wasn't too disappointed with missing the hare, as it was only a first
attempt and it's expected to begin with. However, when you have been spearing into thin air
until the sun has burnt the back of your neck, your patience starts to wear thin.
After a thousand or more attempts, I am content. String around its bloody neck and
arms tied to legs, the lifeless hare hangs over my tanned back. Father will be pleased with my
catch and our tribe will praise me. And finally I will have a earned my name.
With the sun still blazing hot and no wind whatsoever, walking is hard enough, and with
my spear and this limp creature over my shoulder, I tire quickly. Through the vast amount of
greenery I see a large tree providing plenty of shade.
"AAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Unable to breathe, all I can see is the floor a few meters away. My skinny body is bent
double and I appear to be held off the safe ground by rope. In fact I am enclosed by rope and
cannot move. I'm trapped!
"FATHER HELP ME! HELP ME!!!"
There is no response and I have seen none of our tribe. Surely they have realised I am
missing for the light is slowly fading. I must have been here all evening and I'm beginning to get scared. Burning tears of pure desperation pour down my clammy face. Sudden a rush of anger wells up deep inside of me, for I have only just this moment figured it out. This is a white man's trap, and I have been caught.
My spear is lying motionless on the forest floor. If only I had not been so foolish to let it
go then breaking free from this imprisonment would be easy. I have no sharp implements and
no way of freeing myself.
Last night was the longest, most lonely and terrifying night of my life. I slept a mere few
hours, but awoke to find my crotch damp. The hare I proudly killed, the day before, is
underneath me, every bone in its body must be broken. However, it is providing some needed
padding against the burning ropes.
Before now I had not even felt hungry or even thought about food. But a groaning sound
from my stomach tells me breakfast is overdue. Most of my hazed thoughts have been of my
tribe, my Father, but more importantly, of freeing myself. This damned rope that traps me is
far too tough to chew through, and none of the holes are large enough for me to climb through. The most positive plan I have come up with now seems too horrible. A broken bone
from the hare would be sharp enough, I am sure, to cut through this rope. But somehow
ripping the bones out of this creature does not appeal to me. So that is my plan. If I am not
found by Father or the rest of the tribe by this light tomorrow.
Father has not come. No one has come. I am alone and the stench of dead meat is all I smell. My stomach makes noises that resemble a stubborn drain being unblocked, my head aches and my crotch burns from urinating. Energy is something I do not posess.
Father has not come and night is falling. With the last remaining strength left in my weak
body, I pull the dead hare onto my stomach. I can still make out where my spear entered. The
blood is crusty and dark red in colour, it covers the whole of the creature's body. All thoughts
leave my mind. Two fingers from each hand are inside the wound. On the count of three.
"One, two, three"
I cannot bring myself to do it. If my friends saw me now, how they would laugh.
"One, two, three!!!"
I retch with the sound of ripping flesh, but nothing comes up. The insides are still red
raw and the smell is not something I could describe. I have found a good size broken bone, so
vigorously I pull. My hands are red with its blood, but I've got a broken, sharp bone. Immediately I pathetically start cutting away at the brown rope. It is taking far longer than I thought. A shooting pain darts up my arm as the bone slices through my flesh, my blood begins to mix with the hare's. At last I have cut through the rope, now only three more pieces and I will be free.
Painfully as I crash down onto the damp floor I see it is now dark. Weeping like a new
born puppy looking for warmth, I squirm on the forest floor. I force myself back up, I force
myself to walk. As I struggle through the endless darkness, my eyes latch onto a sight that I
have dreamed of for days. Like a giant fire fly, I see our camp fire burning brightly in the
distance.
Tripping and falling as I run to the light; tears of a different nature run off my cheeks,
these are tears of sheer happiness.
"Father, father?" I scream for comfort. The strong, firm, loving grasp that is my father's finds
my trembling arm. After a reassuring hug I'm led back to camp in silence. My tribe's faces
break into smiles as they see it is me with Father.
The once blazing fire is now nothing but smoldering ashes as I finish the events of what
happened. Being patted on the head and shoulders by my family tells me that I have done them
proud. Laughter and talk fills the camp once more and my name within our tribe is decided.
From now I am known as Hareclaw, Hareclaw the man.
