Chapter 17

I have understood very little of the talk between Linda and her brother.

At first the brother seems good to me. He holds his hand out in such a way that I think he means for me to take it in my hand, and I do this. Then, when Linda speaks of what happened yesterday with the man who pushed her, he arises and does this again and offers thanks to me.

But after is much talk between them, and they appear to argue. And the brother now acts differently to me. I think he may feel I am unworthy, though I do not know why he now feels this way.

They use a word I do not understand many times, and I think they mean it about me. “Man” I know, but what is “cave” that they place in front of it? I wish to ask Linda, but I think it is a bad time to do so when she and her brother are in such disagreement.

Linda shows her brother the spearbag and spears, and he foolishly touches the head of one spear and cuts himself. Linda brings out things to tend to his wound, which is very small but nevertheless makes much blood as such wounds do, and finally wraps it with a bandage much smaller than the one she used on me, and this bandage appears to stick of itself to his skin. I think I am glad that the bandage she used for me did not stick to my skin in such a way, it would have been much more difficult to remove.

There is more talk between them, and then the brother thrusts my spear out to me and asks to see how I use it. I do not know why he wishes this, a spear is ordinarily used in only one way, but I will do.

First, though, I ask Linda will she replace my binding. I must use this hand to cast, and my chest is still sore from when I strike the bad man yesterday and it will be easier with the support. I think the brother is not happy with this, but he waits while I remove the shirt and she binds me again.

I do not take up my shirt again, it covers the arms and will hamper me when I cast. I put on only my jacket to protect against the cold while I prepare. I will remove it again to throw.

When we go out the door I look to the brother and ask where I should throw. He points to a large tree. “There, hit that,” he says.

This is a target for a boy, and a young boy. I would not insult even one so young as Unkgat to throw at it. And mine are not practice spears, they will penetrate this tree and may be difficult to dislodge after, and it may injure the spearhead. I have only two spears and I have not the skill to make a new head, nor do I know where flint may be found here.

I look around and I see nearby the food container that Linda used yesterday when she showed me about the gun. I take it to the stump where she set it and place it there. Then I look behind, where the spear will go after it strikes the container. It is not suitable, again the head may be damaged. I ask Linda if there is something I may set behind, soft but enough to stop my spear.

Now the brother is unhappy again; he speaks words to Linda that I do not understand, something about “stalling.” I think he wishes me to hasten. But I will do this right, I will not damage a spear only to please him.

We walk to the shed where is Linda’s car and now also the car of her brother. In the back is a thing like the soft pads on the beds where we sleep. She asks will this work, and I test it; yes, it will be good. It is bulky and awkward, but I grasp it hard with my hands and carry it to the place behind my target. It will not stand of itself, so I lean it against a tree.

“You ready now?” asks the brother. His voice is ill, but I will not take offense, he is the brother of Linda and I must hold my anger.

I stand by the target and begin to walk; I will go thirty paces. This is not so far as I might have gone, but I have not hunted in a moon now, I will be not so good as I might be in hunting time. I have gone many winters longer between hunts, though, and the body remembers, I need only allow it to do so.

Both are watching me as I walk. I reach the end of my distance. Without turning I remove my jacket and drop it to the ground.

Then I turn and throw, quickly as one must in the hunt. This is a way I teach my sons and other boys, the practice target does not move as prey does so it is best that the hunter move when practicing.

I am not completely pleased with my cast; I see that my aim is off by perhaps two fingers. But the spear strikes the container and then the pad behind it.

There is only silence after. I put my jacket on again and close it and go to retrieve my spear. Only then do I hear the brother of Linda speak.

“Jesus Christ,” he says.