In Our Words Canadians Reading Together

As brave as he was, he felt fear rise in his stomach for he knew that a wounded animal is a dangerous animal. Luckily for him, the boar came straight at him from the front. He did not throw his spear at the boar, which was his first instinct, but instead held it firm in front of him with both hands. The beads of sweat ran down his face and sleek body. He was a skilled and experienced hunter, so he stood his ground. Of course in his present condition he really had no other choice because he was incapable of running. The boar lanced itself onto the tip of the spear. The bald entered just below the animal’s neck and came out between its shoulders. The board thudded heavily to the earth, its hooves flailing wildly in one last attempt to attack before death sucked the life from it.

The stunned hunter could only sway back in a kneeling position and say silent prayers and thank yous. He did not stay in this position for long, for the pain in his hip was becoming unbearable. Slowly he took the bullhorn from around his waist and gave the signal call for help. He was not that far from his village and it would not take long for help to arrive. He was in no condition to carry or even drag the animal back to the village by himself. Soon he heard the signal from his village that help was coming. As he waited and stared at the boar’s body, he tried to slow the bleeding from his hip. The attacks had been so swift that other that the boar’s grunts of rage and a few groans from himself, everything had happened under fifteen minutes in almost complete silence. Once again he thanked the powers that be for protecting him. Slowly the pain from his wound cut across his silent thoughts. He knew the women would stitch his wound, and at least his village would eat a little better today than yesterday. Any type of food was a welcome addition in a village as poor as his, so he smiled to himself as he waited for help to arrive.