Before he had left for his hunt that day, he turned around to view his home once more. His mother worked around their cave entrance. Her traditional head covering was required modesty among adult females, her horns hidden. The fabric’s turquoise and peach was a bright spot of color on the gray day. His younger sister sat in the dirt, shelling pintou nuts. His twin, Tupado, hopped about the fire on one leg, maimed by a zycroatan in the river three years earlier. He moved along enough to gather firewood, nuts and berries, but would never be able to hunt. It was Tulano’s responsibility to provide for his family and carry forward their lineage
He felt bad all day, his stomach clenched in a queer fist of pain. His face was drawn tight in tension when he returned from his hunt, dangling a half-
