The winter had been long and hard, and food supplies were dwindling. Avorak had long been considered to be the clan’s greatest hunter, and it now fell upon him to feed his people. This was a matter of pride for him, but now he felt as if he was failing them.
“Tell the people to meet me in the long hall,” Avorak instructed his sickly little brother, Avin.
When all were gathered, the great hunter said, “I have called you all here to discuss our survival. My father, Chief Avolar is ill. I, therefore, will be in charge as we await his recovery. Things are bleak. The snows are heavy in the hills, that are our hunting grounds, and game is scarce. Nevertheless, I will lead a hunting party into the hills, as we must have meat. Till our return my mother, Ballora will mete out what remains of our food to each family. Talver, Urick, Valinor, and Govina, you will join me.”
“Excuse me,” Avin interjected “I was thinking that I . . . .”
“There you go thinking again,” the great hunter interrupted, “No, Avin, you are not coming, and that’s final. With that he grabbed his quiver and bow and departed.
A week later, a weary and empty-handed band of hunters returned to their settlement to the smell of rich meaty stew coming from the long hall.
“What has happened here?” Avorak questioned as he entered the hall. “Have the gods intervened?”
“No, Avin has,” came a chorus of voices.
“But how? the mighty hunter asked in obvious confusion.
At that Avin approached a large wooden crate and pryed it open. He lifted out a metallic cylinder and said, ” It’s called corned beef. I went into Market-town and got some.”
Saturday Mix – Double Take: Our homophone sets this week are –
meat – animal flesh
meet – to connect
mete – a boundary (or to hand out)
pride – ego
pryed – opened