Farre had always been interested in the rites. As a cub, he pestered his elders incessantly, trying to find out why certain rites were performed and how and whether they worked or not. He was never quite able to adopt the proper tone of gravitas when something solemn was happening.

It was a big day for him with the shaman actually relented and allowed him to participate in the blessing of the Hunter. Farre tried very hard to keep grave thoughts in mind; after all, it was his brother Arren they were blessing. But when the butts of their spears clacked together, Farre was unable to supress a bark of amusment...

This scene takes place a few years before Farre's rite of passage. Farre is too young here to have his knife or facial paint, and keen observers will notice that Arren is missing a few scars and ornaments.

I really ought to write some stories around this tribe. But first I need to get some of the rest of the tribe created.

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