Hunter looked at the edge of the meadow. Chekwe should be there by now, hiding just inside the jungle.
“Shoot now,” he ordered Paul.
Paul put slow pressure on the bow’s trigger. There was a hard slap of the string and the hiss of the quarrel as it shot away.
Paul’s aim was off. Like most boys in their first fight, he forgot to adjust his aim for the downhill slope, and his shot was high and wide. He missed the big chieftain, but the quarrel hit a nearby warrior in the knee. The warrior crumpled and started screaming. His cry went unnoticed among all the gleeful shrieking, except by his close companions who saw the quarrel sticking out of his leg and the black blood spurting between his fingers where he clutched the wound.
“Load!” Hunter commanded. Paul rolled onto his back, put his foo
