'Thank
you.' She screwed back the cap, set down the flask and went outside.
Kalus held the long point in his hand, adjusted it several times in the
slot. When he had marked the best fitting in his mind, he withdrew it
and placed one edge against a flat rock on the floor, then drew out his
round hammer-stone and carefully chipped away at either side of the
base. It was delicate work. One mistake, one overzealous stroke, would
render it useless as a spearhead. He did it well, refitted the point in
the groove.
Lastly he took the long strand that had dangled for weeks from his
wrist, the hide of a buffalo, poured water over it, and wrapped it as
tightly about the shaft as his strength and its thickness would allow.
When he had done and undone this several times, he finally found the
best pattern, and with a grunt of exertion took the remaining length and
forced it down between wood and stone, sealing the tie. Sylviana
returned with the wolf as he held it up and studied it with tired
satisfaction.
'What will you do today?' she asked, though the spear (and her
stomach's emptiness) should have told her.
'We hunt bigger game, if the wolf is willing. Rabbit is good for the
short hunger, but we need tools and clothing for the winter..... And
meat.' Was there a trace of fierce lust in his voice as he said the
word? Or was it hers in the hearing? She didn't like the
implications.
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