Sticks and Stones

Picture Prompt: https://twitter.com/RosettaYorke/status/988835949621710849

Once, not that long ago, the nomads had thrived. Food--both grown and animal--had been abundant. One of the hunters, Bheka’s eldest brother, had managed to make alcohol from the potatoes. They celebrated the birth of little Lwazi who would certainly grow up to be the most prolific hunter of them all. His dad had been the best Bheka had ever seen, and she missed the days when she followed him around with a new sense of wonder for the world.

 

That wonder was gone, along with all of the hunters. Every hunter except herself and little Lwazi. He’d grown now. It must have been nearly twenty years since they all sat around the fire, telling stories of what they hoped his life would be.

 

Bheka led Lwazi through the plains as she often did. She kept ahead of him, but still aware of his position. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed off to the side. He hadn’t always been mute, though she couldn’t blame him for it after everything he’d been through. She pulled her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow. Then she turned toward where he pointed. Her shoulder slumped when she saw the giant, stone elephant.

 

 “Another one?” she said. Lwazi nodded and frowned. “We can’t eat stone,” she told him. “I think that’s it for today. It’s late and I’m tired.”

 

Back at camp, the hunters were greeted by Sizani. There had been a time when she doled out medicine and tended to wounds, but Bheka had no need for a medicine woman. She only needed Sizani, her friend.

 

“Empty-handed again?” Sizani asked.

 

Bheka nodded. She gestured for Lwazi to enter the tent and he did as he was told. “I don’t know what to do,” she said as soon as she was alone with Sizani.

 

Sizani stoked a fire. Above it sat a black pot, though Bheka was sure there wouldn’t be anything of substance inside. “Still no sprouts, either. Another night of broth for supper,” Sizani said. She scooped up a bowl-full of the liquid and handed it to Bheka.

 

“It’s spread here, too. We’ll have to move on,” Bheka said between sips of her broth. Her stomach growled, begging her for something more. There wasn’t any.

 

“Where to?”

 

“I hear the north hasn’t seen it yet. The cold keeps it out.” The tribe had never been north, not that far, anyway. Mountains and blizzards had never appealed to Bheka. Her gaze wandered over to the tent. We don’t have a choice, she thought. Not as long as she wanted to keep Lwazi safe.

 

Sizani smiled. “North it is, then.”