My Hunter

 

It’s our last meal for the day

– the last remaining scraps of meat from yesterday’s hunt. It was Him who caught this animal with horns. I don’t know what it’s called; He knows its name. It’s not like it matters whether I know what we’re eating or not. What is the value of my knowing? Only He has the right to know.

He has been trying so hard to find more food for us. I almost felt guilty for licking the last bits of meat. Those scraps were the only ones left from his hunt. I know it is more difficult for him to hunt now because of this strange weather. Every animal seems to have hidden behind the thickness of this white sheath from the sky. This sheath is lovely to look at, but it deprives us so.

White has been falling from the sky for the last two weeks. Animals are few. They must have gone to a warmer place. I know that this weather bothers him much. With the increased appetite of our children, he must go out and hunt whether he likes it or not. At times like these, he doesn’t come back until he has killed. He knows all too well that if he fails, we will die and become easy food for hungry hunters alike or hungry animals.

This is our life. We are early people. The earth is still young and wild. It keeps on changing. Animals are free and uninhibited. They have their own power and it’s not easy for humans like us to outwit them – at least, not yet. The world is primitive and so are we. The strongest survive – that’s the present reality.

He sprung towards the entrance to our humble abode. His movements were sudden. He shifts to a position of defense or offense – whichever is his purpose. Perhaps he has heard a suspicious sound – something like an animal poised to kill him, or somebody ready for an ambush. If the latter happens, I would be taken and our home would know another master. In most cases, however, it is only a wild animal attempting to satiate its hunger. In some funny instances, it is just the rustling of leaves or the wind, making peculiar sounds. We will never be sure about these things. That is perhaps his reason for not sitting pretty and relaxing a bit – not one bit – for our very lives are in his hands. Even in his sleep, his mind and senses are active – as if he never knew what sleep truly means. I bet he could hear everything even if his eyes are closed.

He figured out that the noise was nothing. He sits closer to me. I could see his pulsating neck. I know he is afraid – he always is, but he tries hard to conceal it. He never lets me think that he is afraid. He makes sure that his weakness won’t show – definitely not his fear. To me, he feigns strength. He doesn’t know that I know that deep inside his manliness, there is a vulnerable person. I must always see him as he is – our protector and provider – my hunter.

The Endmy hunter cover



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