One Arrow, by Dennis Charney

I remember!

It was long ago, but there are times a man will never forget.

It was the Moon of Long Darkness and the snow was deep in our valley. It hung in the branches of the spruce and out along the Big River. It drifted into huge banks before the wind that blew down from the pass.

But back in the high timber at the foot of the ridge, the cold wind was only a roar overhead. So the snow lay deep and soft where it fell among our lodges, undisturbed except for the tracks of the dogs and the places where the children played their games.

For the older ones, there was no need to go out into the cold, except to answer nature or to bring back firewood. Then they would wrap themselves up in heavy fur robes to protect against the cold.

And there were buffalo.

It had been many winters since there was buffalo meat in our camp. The home of the buffalo was far to the east, down the Big River, and this was also the home of the Elk People. We did not often go there.

But in the Last Moon of Yellow Cottonwood Leaves our hunters did a very brave thing.

Before the water of the Big River was too low, Antler and Walks-Fast had taken a hunting party downstream. It was not safe to travel by day, so for five nights they had traveled down the river, and it was twice as many nights to come back against the current, for then the canoes were heavy with the smoked buffalo meat.

It was a great risk, but our hunters were brave and we liked our buffalo.

Now we could all enjoy the jerky and listen, over and over again, to the story of the hunt...