Chapter 9
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It was the screech of the hawk that woke him. Small Hawk sat up, stiff from his night sleeping on the bare earth. He stood and stretched. Everything was damp with dew, and even he was coated with a film of water. It gave him an odd sense of connection to the grass and earth. He walked to the edge of the circle relieve himself. He looked up into the branches of the old oak. The hawk was looking down at him, staring intently. Small Hawk was tempted to shout good morning, but the thought made him feel silly. He watched as the bird took to the air to hunt. It reminded him of how hungry he was. He took a drink of water. Laying the deer bladder at the edge of the circle, he looked around the meadow. All was quiet. He sat and sighed deeply.