Writing: Chapter Three

So far, my discipline for writing has held. I am sure that the cold weather has something to do with it as the distractions are limited to things inside the house. Chapter three is now 12 pages (about 18 book pages) and 5000 words.

In this chapter, our hero is 28 years old, and despite being banished from his village for an indiscretion with an older woman, he and his "one," (wife) Lone Bird, have managed to create another child, a three year old daughter, Little Fawn, whom he has not seen since she was an infant.

The scene below takes place in the woods, near a spring -- a familiar meeting place. Although he does not know who might be coming to meet him today, our hero, Young Heron, has arrived early, eagerly awaiting whomever might appear:

From my hiding place in the woods above the rocks where the springs flowed, I waited. Then I heard the sounds of a little girl crying and I knew Lone Bird and my daughter were coming. But the first person I saw, was my son, Third Heron, who came cautiously creeping into the opening around the small pool of the spring’s waters, as if to see if any animals were drinking there.

Then running into the opening came Little Fawn, cuter than I could have imagined. I had not seen her since she was a baby, but now she could walk and run and was beginning to talk to her brother, when her mother, my One appeared, trotting after Little Fawn. My breath was taken away by seeing all three of them there. And, following Lone Bird was Mother. What a gathering this would be!

I whistled the call of the redbird—“purdy, purdy, purdy, wheet,” to let them know that I was nearby. Third Heron looked back at his mother, and she nodded ‘yes’ to him. My son then answered my call with his whistle—“piddy, piddy, piddy, wheet.”

I was thrilled; tears of joy and pride welled in my eyes, as I bounded out of my hiding place and ran down the hill. Little Fawn was frightened by me and hid behind her grandmother. Third Heron ran to me and hugged me strongly. He was ten years old and getting big.

“Aiyee,” I shouted happily. Mother returned, “Aiyee, my son.” Little Fawn stepped halfway out from behind her grandmother and stood with her fingers touching her lips.

Lone Bird looked back at Little Fawn smiling and said in an encouraging tone, “Aiyee,” with her voice rising at the end. She and Little Fawn had practiced this greeting for me, but Little Fawn was unsure. “Come on my Fawn, you can say it, with me. “Aiyee, Father.”

And shortly, alone by herself, Little Fawn ventured softly, saying “Awee, Faver.” It was precious. “Aiyee, my pretty daughter,” I said gently, and she smiled and turned her head in embarrassment.

"A grownup is a child with layers on."

~~ Woody Harrelson, American Actor, b. 1961