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"How did you get the shafts to be so smooth and straight? Each one is as true as can be." I bent them with fire after first making them supple with water and mud." You made these arrows? All of them?" Yes, just before we left. These are some of my best." I make most of the arrows in our village. I would happily call any one of these arrows better than the finest that I've ever made. Could you show me how you do it?" If you have some fresh cut saplings available, I'd be happy to. I'd like to see your arrow making as well."While Stick and Vasil, the arrow maker stepped aside to discuss the fine points of arrow construction, two other hunters began to negotiate with Two Bears for three of the carved antler figures. Of the dozen or so that he had laid out, the three that they had chosen were all fashioned by Running Spring, Rising Waters woman. The Chief had given Two a dozen figurines that Spring had fashioned, and had asked for a metal knife if possible, or two arrow points if that was. As if by some mutual agenda he opened the playroom door, had her stand under the lift, secured her wrists to the lift, and pulling the slack from the rope securing it before kissing her, saying good night, switching out the light and closing the door. Retiring to his bed. He collected the next of the remaining albums and laid comfortably in the soft glow of the bedside light, began to peruse the pictures. He had selected album marked ‘R’. For her stood in darkness, arms secure above her head, expecting her night would be one long and a very exhausting round of trying to ease weary muscles, she had time to muse. She had trodden this path before. Oliver would have left her on tiptoe, to add to the pain, he was an unfeeling bastard like that, but her son had left her on her flat feet and with enough slack to move but not escape. Time in the darkened room, passed slowly, not that she had any way of knowing that of course, no chink of light under the door, and the curtains drawn, her.
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