One to Two

A roe deer lay at the bottom of a ravine, and Trіy could do no more than helplessly curse at the sheer edge. A narrow trickle ran from its spotted body, staining the ground with crimson. The head, twisted in an unnatural way, stared at the hunter with a maliciously gleaming, glassy eye—making him doubt what had actually killed it: an unthinking leap, or a spear that had stuck in its side.

The whisper from the scree made Trіy recoil. Damn creature! It found where to die. He was already all in a sweat, and now he’d have to drag himself home for rope—an hour there, an hour back… and if he wasn’t assigned to some other matter for the good of the community. That conspicuous black-and-russet sparrowhawk-like arrow plumage wouldn’t keep the prey safe from a chance passerby; rather, it would only make it easier to spot. Trіy was already entitled to only the fifth part of the carcass—everything else would have to be given to the tribes: they, supposedly, had something to spend their efforts on.