He was very good with his spear, which he had fashioned carefully from a fallen tree — a groaning fall he had heard personally one gloomy night long ago, when there had been flashing lights and a terrible battle atop the clouds. It had groaned very heavily, the tree, as they listened, huddled in their cave, and had then loudly thumped upon the dampening earth. And it had been he who first walked bravely out, after all the defeated cloud warriors stopped pissing over the land, and searched through the leaves and twigs for it. Continue reading →