Son of Sasquatch

I awoke from a bad dream. No wonder, the dream catcher that hung over the bed was broken. My aching body told me that I should stay put, but I got out of bed. Someone had cleaned and tidied the long-house after the fight last night. The blood is gone.

Somehow, I found my moccasins. I slipped my flint knife into my belt and went outside and into the brightness of the day. The body I dragged outside last night was gone.

I staggered down to the pond. A reflection of a young man covered in blood looked back at me. I scoop water up and applied it to my face before washing my body.

I checked my reflection again. A man stood behind me. He was fully clothed in warm robes, a bloody knife in his hand. His was the head, I tried to remove last night.

“Some fight,” he said. “For a while I thought I was done.”

Last night, I thought likewise. “What are your plans, Father?” My words sounded strange. This was the first time I had called him father. Up until last night, I always referred to him as Sasquatch.

“We're going to have a feast. It's not every day a man can welcome a son home.” He pointed the knife at a carcass hung in a tree. “I skinned the bear you killed. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Come inside and eat,” he said. “It’s been too long. We have a lot of stories to share, questions to answer.”

That’s the understatement of my life. I lay awake nights thinking of all the things that I would ask him. Questions that I would ask Sasquatch, who was always there for me, and of my father, who abandoned my mother and me.

I finished washing and went back inside. He followed with bowls of fried meat, more than likely the loser of last night’s fight.

He passed me a bowl and two sticks. I placed the useless sticks next to the bowl and picke...

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... how it is done.”

I passed him the bow.

He pushed the points of two arrows in the earth in front of him, a third he notched. “Use your thumb, not your fingers, to draw back the string. You’ll get a longer pull and therefore more power. Also, your release will be cleaner and your shot more accurate. Now keep your eyes on the targets.”

I look in time to see the first target being struck dead on. The arrow sent it straight back into the bush. The first never hit the ground, before the second target was sent flying straight back. Then the third arrow shattered on its target sending it sideways.

“Tā mā de!” Father was not pleased.

My mouth fell open. If those were warriors from my tribe, they would be dead. None of them could reach my father.

He handed me back my bow. “Set the targets back up and when you can knock all three down, I’ll tell you about your mother and me.”