There was a young Brave boy who went out hunting the redwoods with his younger brother. Today was his younger brother, Mejarei's Born day and he wanted to learn how to hunt. So The young Brave, knowing this, told his brother, "I will take you hunting then." The Brave walked to this huge chest set in the back corner of the Den. It was covered by a handmade Throw made by an Aunt ten years ago, the colors of their Tribe. Red, black, white and gold, horizontal stripes. The Brave took the Throw off, folded it and placed it on a nearby chair their Father made when he was a young man. Opening the chest, both brothers inhaled the mix of aromas. White and Feather Sage, gun metal, cedar wood, Old worn suede and leather with the faintest scent of dry blood from previous kills. The Brave looked to his younger brother who's eyes were wide with curiosity and anticipation.
He smiled seeing this and spoke. "These are the weapons of our people. Passed down through eleven Generations. We have used them in Traditional ways to aid us in Victory of feeding our People. He chuckled and patted his brother on the shoulder. "I'm kiddin Bro. Dad bought these at Walmart three years before the Columbine Sacrifice."
