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.:A'hunting we will go:.

After his first few abjectly pathetic days of life, Bolide quickly resumed his habit of annoying the hell out of Martina. She quickly ascertained that although the young Cambrian was quite capable of digesting meat, he liked it to be cut up into little chunks for him. Perhaps his natural parents would have regurgitated food for him, or chewed it up and spit it out. In any case, he waited eagerly at the table while she ate dinner and leapt up to grab bits of food from her knife and fork. Training Bolide to sit still and eat from his own plate took quite a bit of work -- but after the second accidentally swallowed steak knife, Bolide sullenly cooperated.

Bolide didn't attempt to bite Martina, but he eagerly went after any other human or living creature that caught his eye. After one too many chomped-leg incidents, Martina strapped a customized muzzle onto Bolide's face, putting an end to his fun. Bolide finally agreed to cooperate with her absurd rules, ending the era of the muzzle, but he did enjoy seeking out fish and small animals to chow down on. Pets belonging to people were usually off-limits, but stray pets were anyone's game. Bolide never quite got over the impression that humane society trucks were the carnivore equivalent of pizza delivery, and lost many teeth to fleeing bumpers as he galloped after the snacks-on-wheels.

In addition to eating inappropriate objects, the Cambrian child loved frisbee, fetch, volleyball -- pretty much anything that involved chasing down a moving object. Many good volleyballs lost their lives to Bolide's love of sports. Once he learned to swim, however -- and once Martina FINALLY let him swim without those damned floaties -- Bolide's passion turned to the sea. In addition to being fun to swim in, the fish and crabs that inhabited it were a good deal tastier than volleyballs.

Being cooped up in the Institute with a growing Bolide was not something that Martina enjoyed. As soon as the child had the rudiments of English and some semblance of manners, she packed him up and headed off to Africa. She planned to dig around prehistoric hominid dwelling sites. Digging up ancient forms of life was the main reason Martina had gone into biology (and probably the reason she hadn't simply handed Bolide's eggs off to another scientist). Digging through hominid middens could potentially provide a wealth of animal bones -- the creatures that ancient human species hunted, and possibly the uses of their carcasses.

Bolide was taken via freighter to avoid customs difficulties. Though he refused to speak to Martina the entire time (why wouldn't she allow him to go adventuring in the ocean? It wasn't fair!) he forgave her entirely once she smuggled him inland and out to the digsite. Though dry old bones were not exactly Bolide's main area of interest, the hunting aspect of the 'game' delighted him. He wasn't the neatest digger, but he loved sifting through sand and rock to find elusive fragments of bone. The little Cambrian had quite a knack for picking out the shapes of bones from the rubble scattered throughout the dig.

When not terrorizing Martina's assistants or searching for bones, Bolide wandered the area around the dig. It wasn't exactly the lush heart of Africa, but there were plenty of birds and small animals to hold his interest, and he perfected his land-hunting techniques on them. It was much more fun than the stuffy old Institute had been.

"Oy. What you doing here, hey?" A suspicious face pops up out of the undergrowth, mottled dark green and nut-brown. The stranger's body is adorned with thick, fibrous straps of cloth and a brightly dyed sash is threaded through his teeth. Strange getup, at least to the tired band of coastal dwellers.

Ul-han the netmaker steps forward, puffing out his hood and growling menacingly. "Hile, we are O*wele-mu! Our teeth are sharpest, our nets are strongest, we bring in the most fish!" He snaps his tail to and fro, circling the stranger. Ul-han's eyes are small and hard, and his lips have pulled all the way back, allowing his prodigious jaw to jut forward. Ready to bite, is Ul-han.

The villagers are tired and footsore, but they stamp their feet furiously. "Ya, ya, O*wele-mu, O*wele-mu."

Not impressed, the smaller Bella puffs himself up and begins to strut too. "There are no fish here, in the woods, sea hunters. My people climb like the monkey and run faster than the deer. You are clumsy here, ya hey!" He has no backup chorus of stampers, but he postures every bit as threateningly as the much larger Ul-han.

Ceremonies finished, the two seemingly adversarial males relax with a whoosh of air. Released from their duties, the villagers slump, weary. They are hoping for hospitality from the People of the Woods. *gunna is very tired. He has spent the last few days running back and forth, up and down the line of straggling people, coaxing them ever onwards. The big fisherman isn't accustomed to such crowded terrain. None of the villagers are. They are used to their breezy open town, where the orchards are carefully tended and none of the native vegetation grows more than knee-high.

The woods-people man is very curious, very excited. He practically bounces up and down, whipping his tail joyously. The People of the Boat (O*wele-mu) are peaceably acquainted with his own town, but they do not often visit. Certainly not in such numbers! War is unheard of, and the man of the Woods cannot imagine the O*wele-mu have come to attack. If the visitors stay too long, there will be conflicts over food and land, but they can coexist for a time. The man of the Woods hopes they have brought salty fish and the good ripe fruits of their valley. Oh, the O*wele-mu have good food, very good food! They shall tell stories, and all the Woods men will have chances to show off their hunting prowess.

"We have come to tell a story," Mu'lunu'ulu says, her melodious voice charming the man of the Woods. The offer of a story is a good offer, a sure sign of peaceful intent. Possible duplicity never crosses the man's mind. Bellas are honest folk.

"We will share stories in the clearing," the male said, bowing slightly. He is pleased, very pleased! He will have the honor of bringing these fascinating guests to his village. They seem weary and hungry, but they are welcome nonetheless.

As *gunna's bedraggled party limps through the forest, their guide chatters happily to anyone willing to listen. His name is Nuk Parr. "Nuk Parr is the Little Bird Who Collects Many Sticks For Her Nest And Lines It With Flowers," Nuk Parr explained, his voice taking on a lecturing tone as he trots along beside *gunna. *gunna nods wearily, affecting interest. The languages of the two nearby villages are similar enough to be understood, but evidently names don't translate well.

Refreshed by a mid-afternoon snack of berries (thoughtfully pointed out by Nuk Parr), *gunna begins to take some more interest in his surroundings. The forest really is kind of nice, he thinks. Too cluttered, but nice. "Why do you wear those things?" he asks, rolling an eyepair towards Nuk Parr's strange clothing. "They look itchy."

Nuk Parr laughs, an oddly musical series of sounds. "Why you think? When we sit down on the log, bark don't go up our privates."

"Hmmm," *gunna says carefully, not sure what to make of this proclamation. He can see the benefit of not having bark jabbing into one's privates, but wrapping all that itchy cloth around himself doesn't look too appealing.

It is not long before the People of the Boat enter the village of the People of the Woods. Along the way, they have accumulated a dozen thrilled villagers, chatting and giggling and flaring their hoods. The unmated woods women, small and dark and vibrant, are quite taken with the strange men of *gunna's village. Picking out *gunna, Ul-han and a few other eligible males as the ostensible leaders, they bounce alongside them, annoying and amusing the foreigners. A young female, solid mahogany brown from snout to tail, is glued to *gunna's side. Every time he attempts to speak to her she breaks into a fit of giggles. Though tired from their long and frightening journey, the O*wele-mu feel their hearts growing lighter. It is hard to remain grim surrounded by the thrilled crowd of woods people.

A boasting contest begins once the exiled villagers reach the center of town. Though inspired by the wild tales of the woodsmen, the O*wele-mu are drunk with relief at reaching a safe haven. They cannot really put their heart into the competition. Instead they sit back and laugh, enjoying the relatively warm day and each others' company. Ever hospitable, the People of the Woods bring out thick blankets and baskets of dried meat. The purpose of *gunna's visit seems very distant now. He and his friends and family are content for now. The future is very far, so very far. For now they rest content, celebrating with the woodsmen, eating the strange bland meat of far-far-inland and singing songs in a foreign tongue.

.:Reserved for RP:.
Hat!

.:Reserved for Something or Other:.