Boring Story #1

Kronar was exhausted. His calves ached from the two day climb up the steppes to the encampment. His shoulders burned from carrying the kill of half a dozen hares and an elk hide. It had been a good hunt, but soon enough, he would be back out. Food never seems to last.

He reached the clearing before dawn and his eyes rested on the circle of his tribe cast about on the hard dirt floor. Scattered about like cedar sticks, their bodies rested. Their long brown hair hung over their heads like a dense thicket and the glimmer of their rings and hairpieces reflected the slight glow of the crescent moon sinking along the horizon. They were a wealthy tribe replete with treasures from the lost sea to the edge of the empire. He looked down at his thumb ring. A panther’s claw with a ruby in the center showed him to be king. Morger slept with his hand clasped resolutely on his blade. Magel curled up like a ball at the outer edge of the tribe. Misel, the night’s watch, strode up to him slightly embarrassed that he had, yet again, not heard Kronar’s ascent. He shook his head and waved a finger at Kronar with a slight smile on his lips. Kronar threw him a plum he had procured in the valley and then set down in the middle of the circle for a few hours rest.

His eyes had hardly closed before they were open again to the sound of bodies shuffling. The crisp wet of dawn lingered over his body hair and the smell of morning entered his nose. He got up, feeling his bones crack into place, and dusted himself off. He walked over to Magel and nudged her. She needed to prepare the food for the day as the tribe would certainly be hungry. She would need to get the women together on this. He walked over to Misel and helped him with the fire. There was a special trick to twisting the wood and he showed Misel as best as he could how to do it. It’s all in the wrist and then a steady rhythm. In no time, he had smoke then spark then fire. The leaves and twigs burst into flames. In no time, the smell of smoke would have the entire tribe getting to work.

The men got up and inspected Kronar’s catch that the women laid out along the rope line. Yes, it had been good. The women proceeded to head out toward the river for the cleaning. The men gathered their rucksacks to forage some roots. The magic elder still slumbered under a large bush at the edge of the circle. His snores still ringing loudly with the only other sound being made, that of the crackling fire. Kronar was eager to mate. He grabbed Magel from the women group and led her to the center of the circle. He took her and she let him in as the smoke swirled around them. The magic elders snores blended in with the Magel’s heavy breathing. He rolled over and stared into the clouds. Dinner would be soon.