08-28-2012, 02:04 PM
Toke furrowed his brow. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Packs want hunters that can bring down deer, not snakes. Packs want sentinels that can match a black bear for as long as they need to before help comes.
Well, Miss...in my swamps, I was the biggest male in the pack; near as big as a male red wolf, and that's the truth. But here...I seen some of the wolves around here, if only at a distance. Here, I guess I'm not so big. And I'm six, and an old six, at that; so I don't guess I'll be the kinda dog your pups' pups would know.
I can't bring down a deer on my own, but I can throat it faster than you could sniff. Yella' dogs...some folks call us Carolina dogs, but we call ourselves yella' dogs...but us yella' dogs learn from the time we wean, to strike...kinda, exactly like a snake. We watch them...snakes, I mean. And the older hunters, too. We ain't allowed to hunt until we can stand in front of a snake, dodge its strike, and then strike it faster than it can strike again.
That may not sound like much, but if you use it right, you can throat a deer outright instead of trying to pull him to the ground. And in a fight, if your mojo is good and your feet are quick, might be you can kill them quick and see it over with. I don't see no reason I couldn't teach it to them that's wanting to learn. My old Head called it Dancing the Snake.
He took another minute to think. He'd dressed that one skill up as best he could, but somehow he didn't really think that'd be enough to seem useful. Especially if these folks all stayed on two legs.
And when I let the fever burn, and stand up on two legs...well, I knew a female down around the Big Lakes. She taught be how to make things with my hands. I can make rope out of grass, and turn that rope into a thick collar with bone and teeth. It runs almost from your ears to your shoulders, but it don't stop you turning your head much. If something bit you while you were wearing it, it wouldn't bite nothing else that week. I can make other things, too. But that's the best thing I know how to make. She was a coyote too...the female what taught me, that is. She called it her wolf-collar. He paused... As to the crow...well, what signals death for one can signal life to the other. I followed a bunch of crows to my next meal before. And nine is a good number for mojo. And left...well, the left will lead you to someone else's right more often than not. That's good enough mojo for me.
He raised his eyes up to her knees, and hoped that was enough. He left out the part about hunting snakes and reading juju and mojo. If his wandering had taught him one thing, it was that in the world outside the swamp, he was strange more often than not, and usually unwelcome.
Well, Miss...in my swamps, I was the biggest male in the pack; near as big as a male red wolf, and that's the truth. But here...I seen some of the wolves around here, if only at a distance. Here, I guess I'm not so big. And I'm six, and an old six, at that; so I don't guess I'll be the kinda dog your pups' pups would know.
I can't bring down a deer on my own, but I can throat it faster than you could sniff. Yella' dogs...some folks call us Carolina dogs, but we call ourselves yella' dogs...but us yella' dogs learn from the time we wean, to strike...kinda, exactly like a snake. We watch them...snakes, I mean. And the older hunters, too. We ain't allowed to hunt until we can stand in front of a snake, dodge its strike, and then strike it faster than it can strike again.
That may not sound like much, but if you use it right, you can throat a deer outright instead of trying to pull him to the ground. And in a fight, if your mojo is good and your feet are quick, might be you can kill them quick and see it over with. I don't see no reason I couldn't teach it to them that's wanting to learn. My old Head called it Dancing the Snake.
He took another minute to think. He'd dressed that one skill up as best he could, but somehow he didn't really think that'd be enough to seem useful. Especially if these folks all stayed on two legs.
And when I let the fever burn, and stand up on two legs...well, I knew a female down around the Big Lakes. She taught be how to make things with my hands. I can make rope out of grass, and turn that rope into a thick collar with bone and teeth. It runs almost from your ears to your shoulders, but it don't stop you turning your head much. If something bit you while you were wearing it, it wouldn't bite nothing else that week. I can make other things, too. But that's the best thing I know how to make. She was a coyote too...the female what taught me, that is. She called it her wolf-collar. He paused... As to the crow...well, what signals death for one can signal life to the other. I followed a bunch of crows to my next meal before. And nine is a good number for mojo. And left...well, the left will lead you to someone else's right more often than not. That's good enough mojo for me.
He raised his eyes up to her knees, and hoped that was enough. He left out the part about hunting snakes and reading juju and mojo. If his wandering had taught him one thing, it was that in the world outside the swamp, he was strange more often than not, and usually unwelcome.