“Well, what of it? A few years, and in the end, death. Death waited ever hungry. Death had the hungriest stomach of all.”
Koskoosh listened to other sounds he would hear no more: the men tying strong leather rope around the sleds to hold their belongings; the sharp sounds of leather whips, ordering the dogs to move and pull the sleds.
“Listen to the dogs cry. How they hated the work.”
They were off. Sled after sled moved slowly away into the silence. They had passed out of his life. He must meet his last hour alone.
“But what was that?” The snow packed down hard under someone’s shoes. A man stood beside him, and placed a hand gently on his old head. His son was good to do this. He remembered other old men whose sons had not done this, who had left without a goodbye.
His mind traveled into the past until his son’s voice brought him back. “It is well with you?” his son asked. And the old man answered, “It is well.”
“There is wood next to you and the fire burns bright,” the son said. “The morning is gray and the cold is here. It will snow soon. Even now it is snowing. Ahh, even now it is snowing.
“The tribesmen hurry. Their loads are heavy and their stomachs flat from little food. The way is long and they travel fast. I go now. All is well?”
“It is well. I am as last year’s leaf that sticks to the tree. The first breath that blows will knock me to the ground. My voice is like an old woman’s. My eyes no longer show me the way my feet go. I am tired and all is well.”
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2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25
2013-11-25