Like most other things here, this is a working project; a first draft. Here is part one.

When I was young, very young, it was my mother who took care of me. She taught me to walk, or so she tells me, and she was the one that infomed my early actions. But, as I grew older, my father’s frustration changed how it was our family functioned. Understandably, what he wanted was a pupil. He would talk about this, and about hunting over many afternoons. It was because of him that I learned of my unusual nature.

When I was old enough, my mother began to teach me our domestic duties. I would clean the hearth, I would weave with her, and also, I would help her raise my younger sister. There were also duties for us to do outside the family. My mother and I would help around the tribe when people were sick, or needed their children taken care of, or needed to build something. The children, just like you two, enjoyed my stories and I liked to tell them. I would talk about the forest, about the wargs, about the awful basket I once made that lost its bottom and dropped all of my fruits. But my favourite job was shearing animal skins, and cutting and eviscerating the meat. I volunteered for this task often.

When my father’s agitation began to spill into the family’s afternoontime discussion, something within me became very interested. He would speak with Continue reading “Span”