Excerpt
The howling winds blew the drifting snow onto the mammoth hide shelter’s entrance and a trickle began to accumulate just inside the edges of the flap that was used as a door. Hog piled a few more pieces of firewood onto the smoldering fire and watched the flickering flame as it made shadows that seemed to be dancing on the walls of the thick mammoth hide shelter. Nervously he looked at the amount of wood that they still had and tried to imagine how long the remaining firewood would last.
“This has been a long cold winter,” White Fawn said noticing the concern on her mate’s face. “I don’t remember a winter that seems to be lasting as many moons as this one.”
“The food supply is dwindling and so is the firewood.” Hog said as he threw another thick branch on the fire. “We will probably have to go on another hunt before the last snow is melted. Firewood can be gathered even in the cold and snow, but going out on a hunt in weather that is this cold is dangerous. If a hunter broke through the ice covering a stream or lake he would die from the cold before we could get fire started and dry out his parka, britches, gloves and boots.”
“And,” White Fawn said as her mate finished talking, “just finding something in the white snow is hard. The animals are either buried in the ground sleeping all the time, or herded up in the valleys trying to find food and shelter. They are probably also beginning to feel the pains of starvation.”
“We are not starving!” he exclaimed staring right at her and his voice had a decided hint on annoyance or perhaps anger in it. “If I thought that we were close to starving, if our food supply was dangerously low, I would get some of the other hunters and go out hunting. I think we have enough to last another moon before it is all eaten. The weather should be better by then.”
White Fawn’s jaw clenched and her hand quickly formed a fist. “If you ever talk to me like that again,” she said glaring at him. She did not finish her thought but instead moved closer to her mate and stuck her finger just under his nose. “I am your mate, not your child. Treat me as you would any other adult, male or female.”
Hog saw the fist held close to her waist and heard the anger, or was it hurt, in her voice. His eyes traveled down to her bulging belly. She was expecting the baby any day. Grebe had been there just two days ago and said that the baby was ready to be born. She had given White Fawn some medicine that was supposed to start the birthing. But White Fawn had not taken it. She and Grebe had argued over why it was needed.
“I will be right back,” he said as he pushed the covering flap of the shelter back for a heartbeat.
“Where are you going?”
“To get Grebe.”
White Fawn was about to yell that Grebe was not needed when a sudden pain seemed to flow through her whole body and she nearly collapsed on the floor of the shelter. “Get her,” she gasped as tears formed in the corners of her eyes and started to roll down her cheeks.
“Grebe,” Hog screamed from the entrance to his shelter. “Help!”
