Don't Eat the Fish!

Wolf and Hawk trudged down the riverbank. The Pequot, swollen with the recent rain, was jumping with fish. They'd been walking for hours without seeing a single deer.

Wolf halted abruptly, and wiped a sweaty strand of black hair away from his eyes.

He turned to Hawk and let out a sigh.

"No food here," said Wolf. "Let's return."

Hawk turned from side to side, scanning the woods for prey. He was taller, and slower to speak.

"Let's continue down the river," said Hawk. "One hundred fathoms more. Food might be beyond the bend."

Wolf grunted, and they continued.

When they reached the turn in the river, they noticed a group of young men fishing downstream, long wooden poles in hand. They wore different colors and garb.

"Pequot," said Wolf.

Hawk stopped and frowned.

"Now we return," said Hawk.

"We return with empty hands," said Wolf.

"You wanted to quit," said Hawk. He pointed to his temple and grinned. "We return with knowledge. The Pequot didn't fish here before."

Wolf sighed. He hitched his bow to the strap around his shoulder, and turned toward the forest. "We return with bad news," he lamented.

"Wisdom isn't bad news," said Hawk.

The scene of Pequot men fishing faded into the distance as they hiked into the red maples and hemlock.

When they reached the Mohegan village, a bevy of children rushed out of camp to greet them.

"What did you catch?" (kill)

"Are we cooking tonight?"

"Where'd the deer go now?"

The men playfully waved the children off, and proceeded toward the chief's tent.

When they walked through the opening in the canvas, the old man's expression of curiosity quickly changed to disappointment.

"The deer are still not gracing you, my friends?" He asked rhetorically. The lines on his face deepened.

"We return with all our arrows," said Wolf. "Perhaps they smell Hawk coming and flee from us."

"Do not speak bad luck on your brother," said the Chief. "What do you think, Hawk?"

"The Pequot fish the river near the bay. They may be scaring the deer away. I never saw them so close," related Hawk.

"That is new wisdom. I will discuss it with the elders," said the Chief. "Tomorrow you will hunt again. Tonight we eat the women's corn cakes."

Wolf groaned and grimaced.

"The Pequot have fish to eat!" He blurted. I'm tired of corn and berry mash!"

The Chief frowned and looked at Wolf sympathetically.

"Do you like it when an elder grabs you when you're on your way to meet Fox? Likewise, the fish have someplace to go and someone to see. Be grateful for the deer and the corn. Those are our gifts."

Hawk nodded and inclined his head.

Wolf grumbled and nodded.

They turned and exited the tent.

That night, the men were teased mercilessly around the campfire for returning without a catch. The women gleefully strolled around the fire, handing out corn cakes and gloating over their newfound monopoly on the food supply.

Fox smirked as she handed Wolf the smallest cake in her basket, and kissed his cheek. "Better luck coming, brave hunter."

He mustered a grunt of thanks, and wolfed down the cake without further comment.

As the fire calmed and the women and children made their way to bed, the elders began to discuss the news.

"In old days, we shot the Pequot on sight if they fished our river," one elder said.

"We are at peace now," said the Chief. "We will monitor the situation and proceed wisely. But do not trust Pequot."

Wolf and Hawk continued to have no luck hunting. For two weeks, they ate corn and blueberries, and endured the teasing of the women and the grumbling of their bellies.

One day, they agreed to hunt separately and meet at the turn in the river. When they met at the rendezvous point, Wolf was carrying a bough with several fish attached.

Hawk stared with mouth agape when he saw.

Wolf readied his defense, his eyes pleading. He pointed to a Pequot man fishing beside the river.

"Listen to me first, Hawk. Something's wrong... He wants to share with us and be our friend! I only gave him one arrow for these," he said.

Hawk hung his head and put his hands over his ears.

"I know nothing," he said. "The elders can decide."

They walked back to the camp in silence.

When they reached the boundary of the camp, the children rushed out and gawked at Wolf's strange accomplishment. They held their tongues as he walked toward the campire and began to clean his prize.

As if on cue, the chief ambled out to meet the young men, deep concern on his face as he beheld Wolf cleaning fish.

"W-Wolf..." he stammered. "What have you done?"

Wolf glared at his father, defiance in his eyes.

"Screw you, old man! We're eating fish!"