The tribe had been migrating north for a few weeks. They knew which direction to go by the flocks of birds forming arrows in the sky, pointing the way. Grok always like when the tribe was moving. He got to get out in the world, away from his rock sitting job. He felt more like a real hunter out here. For the past few days, the tribe had been on the trail of a heard of woolly mammoths. Grok had been following along with the hunters, trying to get close enough to the beasts to actually see them.
This morning, the hunters were out in front of the tribe about a mile when they started seeing a lot of signs that the mammoths were very close. Grok's heart leaped with joy as he walked up on a huge pile of steaming dung. Immediately he jumped in it and started rolling around. Tonight when he went back to camp, he would smell like a real hunter! After enough of the dung had stuck to the fur on his back, he rolled over and over in the dry grass so plenty of twigs and stalks stuck to the dung on his back. Now he could walk right up front with the other lead hunters and be one of the first to see the animals.