The Arrowhead

Squatting on the lakeshore, Istaqa pricked his thumb on the arrowhead, pleased when blood beaded on his finger. He’d spent hours honing the stone to this precise point and now it was ready for the hunt. This time he’d pierce the great grizzly’s heart instead of running from the beast and his brother would not laugh but be proud. Istaqa would wear the bear’s heavy coat and sit at the head of the feast. He reached for a second stone, equally sharp. With it, he carved “I” in the arrowhead. Now there’d be no mistaking who brought down the great beast.


Jeremy squatted on the lakeshore examining smooth rocks, selecting the flattest ones to skim across the lake’s surface. He’d find the stone to beat his brother’s eight-skip record. He tossed aside a red one, smooth but lumpy underneath, then spotted a glimmer through the water. He reached for the rock, ignoring his now-sodden sneakers, and cut his thumb on the stone’s point, a drip of his blood clouding the clear water red. Excited he’d found an arrowhead, he scraped off the crud encrusted on the underside. He uncovered the letter “I” and imagined a great Indian warrior.


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