3 story draft

He woke to the guide licking his face, as he did each morning. The bright light burned his eyes as it poked through the thatch roof. Blinking and rubbing his eyes, his faithful companion sitting on his chest, he felt the gentle nuzzle and cold snout along at his right ear. The shells hanging from his lobe got tangled in his matted hair and he sat up and shoke his head. The small ball of fur cocked his head and waited for the master to begin the morning ritual of relief, walk, and food.

Walking along the waters edge, the sun was alredy high in the sky and it burned it his skin. He had not applied the oil and grease yet and promised himself to do so as soon the morning ritual was done and he returned to his small hut. Standing in the water now, he relieved himself and watch the urine arc into the shallow waves. His companion raised a hind leg and made a puddle on the sand. Yapping and running circles the companion was demanding food. He too, could feel his empty stomach rumbling.

Approaching the larger group of huts nestled among the trees, he greeted his sister who was sitting in the largest of the dugouts. She had not come out into the sunlight since her warrior was lost at sea. Smiling, he asked about morning meal preparation but she said nothing. He could hear her voice clearly in his head, telling him that she wished to be dead, like her lover, and that she refused to eat, but that he should have her portion of the crab and small berries, to keep his strength. Her mouth did not move.

Inside, he took a small seat far away from his father. His mother lovingly greeted him with a kiss on the forehead, a scold for not using the oil on such on a hot day, and swift kick for the small companion who was now cirlcing the food which had already been laid out on the table. He reach up to fill a bowl and put it down for the little beast, who began to eat it as though he had not eaten in days, eventhough they had gone through this ritual many times.

The crab was cold from sitting in the water all night, and the berries were sharp, sweet and delicious bursting in his mouth. He did not know how hungry he was until he began to eat. His mother brought a small cup of the berry leaf brew and set it next to him as she had done for the father. The boy had not grown accustomed to the dizziness and light headedness yet, but he was determined to learn. He must learn how much to drink; too much and he would loose his morning meal, not enough and he would not be alert during the hunt, but if he learned the correct amount, he could have the strenght of two men, and could hunt all afternoon.

He caught his father's gaze resting on him. Slowly he looked up and engaged the older man eye-to-eye. Much like his sister, the father did not speak from his mouth. In his head, the father's voice spoke his new name, Monanguia. You must be strong, the voice told him. Lead the others today and make us proud. The young boy nodded his head and the shells hanging from his ear spoke of the sea once more. At his feet, the little compaion was now licking his leg, ankle and toes, happily unaware of the task before his master.