Totoka River Just Around the Riverbend

Kuwanyauma had been traveling for a month on her own, though she did not feel alone. Her father, Mongwau “Wiseheart”, who was the chief of her birth tribe, had taught her that one is never truly alone, for everything in nature is alive, and one is always surrounded by nature. ”Even the rocks,” he said, ”are living, although they may not breathe as we do.” And so, a month after leaving behind all that she had ever known, she did not feel alone.

That is not to say that she wasn’t scared. Even the greatest warriors of her tribe grew scared sometimes. Father told her that being afraid did not make you weak. Being afraid was a tool for survival. It kept one alive. Fear was useful. Panic, on the other hand, was a terrible thing and could cause even the most level-headed wolves to lose their minds. So Kuwanyauma made sure never to slip into panic.

It had been a few days since she had last hunted, and her meal then had been nothing but a rabbit. She was hungry again. To the west was the ocean, to the east, a mountain range and forest, as well as plenty of other unexplored areas. However, directly in front of her was a winding river whose flow was lazy and looked like a good spot to catch a fish or two. She came forward until she sat along its bank, watching the sun glisten off of its waters.

She observed what fish she could see, swimming close to the surface and darting to and fro when they became spooked. Here she stayed, her hunger temporarily forgotten, entranced by the sun-sparkled water and the playing fish, the breeze that blew through her fur and the sound of the far-off ocean waves…