Strong Arrow’s WarpathI needed to shave my head, but my shoulder burned from a gunshot wound attained almost two weeks ago. I stretched and felt my muscles loosen, sitting in the sleeping area I shared with my father, who was nowhere in sight. I had slept late; the sun was high in the sky. But now I pulled on my breechcloth and leggings, and was determined to remove the hair I didn’t want. As I watched myself in a looking glass, I had to admit using a straight razor was easier than plucking out the hairs individually as some warriors did. When I was finished, my shoulder aching, I raised my Mohawk high with bear grease.
Leaving home for a week on an ocean voyage had probably done my injury good, however, because I had opportunity to rest. Had I stayed home, I would have felt obligated to
