I am leveraging the M-W word of the day as a writing prompt. I may never come back to these, but want to push out at least 500 words. Feel free to add on. Today's WotD is Glade.
The word of the day is Glade - a clearing at the edge of a forest.
Even hours later, his heart stung from their early-morning conversation. His mother did not think he was old enough to attend the Ta-cha-ten-ah. Even though he had already passed a dozen summers and winters. It was embarrassing that she said so. If she kept him from competing, what would the other boys say?
He dug into the spongy bark of a nearby Kana-oha tree with the black flint tip of an arrow. His mind was not on hunting. He could tell that he would not return to the lodge with any new meat today, not that he had contributed much of anything to the lodge in recent times. Yes, there was a rabbit here and there, and a turkey at the end last season, but compared to many of the other boys his age, he was just not skilled with the bow.
He did much better with fishing. He wished that they were still at the summer camp, where each day he pulled fish almost to more than he could carry. His mother always beamed at the basket full of silver Cha-net-teh and the black mud-dwelling Na-hana-may.
The Na-hana-may had been his father’s favorite. Smoke-fired or fried they were really tough; but like her mother before her, his mother put them in a chipped clay pot lined with spices, then buried them deep in the coals of the cooking fire. It took time but it was worth the wait.
He missed his father.
He looked out across the glade towards the river. He saw many signs of deer. There were no recent tracks in the mud, but there were rub marks from the rutting bucks on some of the trees, clear travel paths and droppings.
He prepared to climb the tree, putting the arrow back into his quiver and securing the bow to his back. This tree would make as good of a base-camp for the day as any other. If he wanted any chance for new meat he would need to get up higher and keep his scent off the ground.