The wind from the cold ocean swept into my hut. I hadn’t slept much, for I had been awake half the night. I slipped my Waskaka skin on, tightening around my waist. I bounded for the door and felt a hand take a firm grip of my ankle. I looked down at my foot to see that my bow had gotten tangled on my boot. Untangling it I attached my bow to my back and, and retrieved, my sword. I lifted the leather flap, which worked as my door to my hut. I stepped, my foot on the icy snow land, Asliaga. I traveled about five miles before finding a Waskaka, who was eating a small meal. I strung and arrow, aimed and released the arrow in the small animal. Having picked up the dead animal, blood oozed out of the hole the arrow had made. I then walked back to my small hut , and placed the animal beside the fire pot. After starting a fire, I placed the small animal in a pot with melted snow. After ten minutes of being heated with flames, the water began to boil. The blood from the animal began to dry and vaporize. Sweet smell of food fill my hut. The animal’s fat, made Waskaka a Asligan delicacy. I plied the skin from its flesh; then I grabbed the fur and placed it on a rack. I also grabbed a bowl from some of my skins, that I used to protect the wooden bowls for damage on the rode. I slide my knife from its sheath grabbed the small animal’s carcass and devoured it except for the bones and a little meat. After my splendid lunch time meal, I started to pack up my belongings and the hut. I had camped twenty miles from the base of the mountains. The snow was glazed with ice over it about on centimeter thick, but it crunched loudly under my fur boot. After two hours of hiking I had traveled eight miles, exhausted I set my pack on a near by rock and drank from a neighboring fresh water spring. Twelve miles to go and I had become very exhausted. My thought trailed off, I thought of my brother, and off my name. I am Liskariki, prince of Zeffrain, also why I ran from home. I then reattached my pack and continued on my journey. I traveled for three hours till I reached the base of the mountains. Judging by the sun, the time is a quarter to six o’clock the only trail to the summit is twenty five miles long, and I am already exhausted beyond extent. I then found a cluster of trees, and set up camp for the night. I set also set up two sticks and a slipknot to trap any wandering, careless animals. It had become night along with cold. I lit my fire place and cooked some of the leftover meat. I reached for my bowl and found a peculiar rock. Picking it up was more difficult than I originally thought. The rock was the same size as my thumb and weighted about five pounds. After picking it up I examined it thoroughly; it was round, smooth , and was a dark purple with white spots covering it all over. I had trouble deciding if it was a rock or and egg. I retrieved my bowl and dug into the leftovers from this morning. After I ate, I washed the Waskaka meat down my throat with some melted snow. A squeal caught my attention. I peered from my makeshift hut to see that me trap had worked well. A red-tailed hawk had its food trapped in the slip knot that I placed there for such a purpose. As I neared the squawking animal, it liked at me deeply, eyes glowing in fright. Sorrow overwhelmed me; my thoughts of killing and eating such a beautiful animal. I untied the rope from the two sticks. The bird almost instantly took flight, but when I untied the rope from the two sticks, I took a firm hand of the rope. The bird instantaneously stooped before the rope tightened around its leg. I then put a makeshift muzzle over its head so that it couldn’t see, and I also took the bird into my hut, and laid it on the ground inside my hut. The bird lay still, motionless; with out questioning I went to bed with many questions that my mind lay upon me. Midnight croaked by, when the sound of metal grinding upon metal. I sprung to the upright position, the bird was scratching it’s talons against my pot. One the masked bird noticed I had full attention toward it, the bird waddled to me bumping and tripping on every thing in the small hut. When the bird finally reached me it unmasked its self and grabbed my tunic with its beak, gradually pulling me toward the entrance of my hut. Looking outside I noticed a trail of smoke from a campfire of the empire of Zeffran solders. The tower of smoke stood a little less than a mile away. I rushed to pack my belongings under the cover of night. I tied the rope to my leather belt. I reached for my pack when the empire’s troops voices could be heard over the whipping wind. I dashed out of the clearing to try to reached the summit of the mountain. my foot steps soft and swift. I was being fallowed , or was until my look back deceived. No one fallowed me but foot steps besides my own, showed clearly. I quickened my pace, not to get caught or fooled. Hours of walking passed until my knees seized and I collapsed into the soft snow which fluffed upon my face. Cold over whelmed me as the sun rose behind the summits of the mountains. Regarding my strength I arose; still un-captured I then dashed into a small cluster of foliage. I set up camp, the bird still clinging to the rope, and the rope is still attached to my belt. Once my hut was set up I laid the small bird inside, and soon fallowed. Inside, I thanked the bird, for it had woken me, and saved me for captivity. After feeding the bird some leftover meat I went to sleep.
- Liskariki Home