“As his legs pumped, he bit cactus spines one by one from the palm of his hand, spitting them away. To either side, the eroded hillsides rose in gentle slopes dotted with sage and occasional bitter brush. This buffalo hunt had turned into another debacle. Occasional chips had been located—all of them years dry, beetle-riddled and gray white from sun bleaching. Where were the buffalo? As he trotted down the trail, a limp brown-and-white body dangled and jerked from his swelling right... hand. He could count off a finger for each day since he'd left Sage Root and camp and add another three toes to the list. Never had the animals been so few, so far between. And if the faces of the People had looked gaunt when they left— "Hey, you!" The cry hung on the still morning air. Bull slowed to a stop, looking around warily as he tried to pin the location of the call. Cautiously he slipped his atlatl from where it hung on his belt.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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