  It had been a very poor hunting year for the Choctaw Tribe. Little Fawn, daughter of Wolf’s Tooth, sat in her wigwam, thinking about her hunger. Not just Little Fawn, but everyone in the village was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger. One month still remained before the ice would thaw in the lakes, and the fish would begin to swim again, and the young green sprouts of grass would burst through the earth and draw the game back to the hunting ground. A grave decision had to be made. When the Council had gathered, Wolf’s Tooth rose up and spoke. “We need food. If we are not to starve, we must organize a strong hunting party, and travel south to seek out the animals that have wandered from our hunting grounds.” There were many grunts of approval. The decision was made that a great hunting party would leave the following day for the south. There was much dancing and preparation for the hunt. Tough hickory bows were tested again and again for weak spots. Sinew cords that were old or might have weak spots were cast aside, and new ones strung on the hickory bows. Knives and tomahawks were made ready. The tension mounted until dawn when the hunting party started from the village toward the south. Little Fawn gazed slowly around the encampment and immediately noticed that all the strong young braves were gone. All that remained were the old men, the sick, the women and children. This bothered Little Fawn, until she thought to herself, “What could happen? Nothing. We will be safe as long as we stay in our village.” Before the men left on the trip, they had been so confident they would bring back home an ample supply of meat that they gave their families extra rations of meat and greens which they had been guarding well. Some of the families were careful and, though given plenty, still used the extra food sparingly; but many of the families could not resist the temptation to feast, and built up fires to cook the extra meat and greens. It was just this mistake that nearly cost many of the remaining Choctaw people their lives. Just as the families were sitting down to eat, a howl echoed from out of the forest and then another and another from different directions. The women became frightened and some of the children began to cry. Some of the men began to cry too, because they realized that they were old and sick and could give little help to the women and children against the danger that was now just outside their village. How well they knew the sounds which came from the forests on the edge of the camp! The wolves were hungry, for their hunting season had been a poor one too. These lean and starving savage beasts had been drawn to the outskirts of the village by the smell of the large quantities of meat cooking in the many vessels throughout the village. The howling continued, and it grew louder as many more voices joined the circle of wolves slowly closing in on the village. Food and hunger were forgotten by the older squaws as they hurried to carry their children to the comparative safety of the wigwam. Suddenly, all were stricken with panic except Little Fawn. Though her little heart pounded in her breast, Little Fawn searched her mind for a solution to this threat of death to her people. She ran quickly to her home and there found her younger brother, Flying Squirrel, crouched in the corner of the wigwam, shaking with fear. Slowly she explained to him that he must stop shaking and listen carefully. Though only a young boy, she told him, he must now become a man. He must leave immediately upon the trail of the hunting party to bring help to the village while she, Little Fawn, stayed behind to do whatever she could to help her people. Flying Squirrel knew the job he must do. So he immediately set out upon the trail of the hunting party, helped by the bright moon and driven on by thoughts of his brave young sister who was staying behind to face this howling menace of a pack of wolves. Both fear and courage lent wings to his feet as he sped through the circle of wolves and down the trail in pursuit of the hunting party. Meanwhile, Little Fawn called two other young Indian girls to her and explained that the only reason the wolves were staying as far from the village was their fear of the many fires which still burned brightly in the village. “So,” Little Fawn said, “it is our job to keep those fires burning all night, and to make torches and light them on the edge of the village to keep the wolves away.” Reluctantly the girls agreed, and fires were built up. The three girls made torches of pine knots and placed them in a wide circle at the edge of the village. All night they kept the fires burning, and all night the howling of the wolves kept up. With the coming of dawn, however, the wolves scurried back into the forest. Only then did the girls who had helped Little Fawn decide to take a much needed rest. But Little Fawn could not rest because she was so worried about her little brother, Flying Squirrel. At just about this time, he reached the hunting party and, after explaining what had happened, collapsed in the arms of his father. Wolf’s Tooth chose a half dozen warriors and immediately started home for the village which was almost a full day’s journey away. Back at the village, Little Fawn was busy gathering wood for the fires that coming evening. Soon many willing hands were helping in this task. As the day wore on, Little Fawn anxiously watched the south trail for signs of the returning warriors. As the sun began to set, Little Fawn began to wonder if Flying Squirrel had been able to reach Wolf’s Tooth and his band. Little Fawn knew that the wolves would be back after the sun set. It grew dark fast. Little Fawn went to look at the many torches around the village, lighting any that had gone out and preparing once again for the long wait. As she reached to set another torch ablaze, she heard a low, threatening growl almost beside her. Turning slowly around, Little Fawn found she was gazing into the sharp eyes of a hungry wolf who must have followed her right to this spot. Little Fawn drew back in fear until her back pressed against a hickory tree as the wolf crouched to spring. There was no escape and Little Fawn faced the wolf trembling. The wolf leaped. There was the sudden twang of a bowstring. A howl of agony came from the throat of the wolf as the arrow struck home. The rescue party had arrived just in time. Wolf’s Tooth’s arrow had found its mark. The rescue party killed most of the wolves and drove off the rest of the pack. All the next day Little Fawn and her brother, Flying Squirrel, were thanked and praised by her tribe. Wolf Tooth told them: “I am very proud of my children. My son moves even more swiftly than a flying squirrel. My daughter may be as gentle as a little fawn, but she is braver than a pack of wolves.” |
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