Bib

so this is probably the worst story i have ever written. I just can't be creative right now. i try---but i just can't. so i will make it really good for next draft but for now- this is all i have. oh and the names are really uncreative and stupid- i will fix that. don't judge me.

It was a cold night at the campsite and the wind made it hard to hear. But Bib could hear the front flaps whipping against each other. Bib got up and walked across the pitch black hut and outside into the night. He was attacked by the forceful wind and was almost knocked over. Slowly, Bib made his way to the fire and sat on a log, the wind at his back. Bib recognized the chief’s quiet but deep voice conversing with another man.

Bib sometimes felt that he was invisible. He would be with his tribe and no one would talk to him but Bib would stand around silently listening. In this way he found out useful information.
So there he was warming himself up, unintentionally eavesdropping on the chief and a man that Bib deducted to be the head hunter, Meham.

“The animals have been disturbed by the Otahaff’s seasonal hunting trip that has just finished. So the surviving animals have migrated up towards the mountain.”

“So you are suggesting a hunting trip?”

“Yes I am, I hear from Gofeni that this winter will be long and harsh. So before the animals go into hibernation, we should stock up on meat.”

“I agree. I will gather the best hunters of the tribe and prepare them for a hunting trip.”

This hunting trip was just another reminder to Bib about how he was a failure. The hunters were admired and praised for providing food. Bib knew he would never be a hunter for he could not see. He felt left out and disconnected from the rest of the tribe. He wasn’t allowed to do anything on his own.

On the day before the trip, the hunters prepared their bow and arrows and packed for a week in the wild. Bib sat near the hunters and helped out with random preparations. He was once asked to sharpen an arrow. Bib took the arrow in his hands and felt it. He imagined the feeling of this bow piercing his heart. He heard the cheers of the hunters and the moaning of the animals. Bib felt angry. He hated the idea of hunting it made him jealous and weak at the same time.

The next morning, Bib followed the hunters into the woods. He wasn’t sure what the reason was for this but it made him feel good listening to the hunters whispering and be able to feel the excitement. Bib followed a good amount behind the hunters but he could easily hear where they were going. The paths seem to be well traveled and all Bib had to do was be quiet. Bib planned on following the hunters the whole time he would sleep near them and at night take some left over food.

The first night he fell asleep about 20 yards away from the campsite of the hunters. He thought he would wake up and hear the hunters. Bib woke up and stretched out he felt good after a long sleep. He felt the midday sun warming but he was still cold. When he realized where he was he was nervous. Where were the hunters? Had they left already? Bib was filled with dread. He slowly crept towards where he thought the campsite was but he didn’t hear anything. When Bib felt around all he felt was the dusty ground and some hot ashes from the fire. Bib felt insecure all alone in the wild.

Bib was calmed by the thought of the surrounding animals that seemed so innocent. He felt like an animal that had been betrayed by his species and left all alone. Bib got up and started pacing wondering how he would get back. All of a sudden Bib heard a whining. He spinned around and reached forward. He let his hands guide him to a heap of messy fur. Bib pet it like a cat. Then he heard something disturbing the woods around him. He heard heavy breathing and felt the ground thump. All of a sudden he felt a claw on his back ripping through his skinned. Bib whimpered and tried to scoot away from the attacker presumably the mother bear. Bib should have known the bear would defend her young. Bib was curled up on the dirt his head tucked in between his knees. Then the most unusual thing happened. The bear was licking him. Licking the wounds. Which bear it was, he had no idea. But he felt loved and cared for. The bears felt sorry for them. Bib was actually sad when the licking stopped and the bears thumped away.

But later that day, Bib heard the thumping again and hoped it was the bears. He followed the thumping across the campsite and down near a river. At the bank of the river Bib lay down on the moss and curled up. He was getting cold and he could tell the night was approaching. He heard the bears walk around near him for a while before e fell asleep. When Bib woke up the next morning he reached out his arms and felt the same messy fur he had felt the day before. And for once Bib felt relieved and loved.