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nothing worse for a family than deprivation. The mountains provide but they do not forgive human errors and carelessness. Up here a man can hunt and survive if he is tenacious and careful or perish from inattention. Just today I saw a herd of hungry wolves in the deeper woods to the east; thankfully they did not detect my presence. I saw bear prints as well... You must always keep your eyes wide open and your senses alert.”
    “I will, Father, don’t worry.”
    Ulis knelt down and began to prepare the kill for transport back to the village. In spite of his fifty-five springs and his silvery hair pulled back in a ponytail, the expert dark-eyed hunter was one of the strongest and most agile men that Komir had ever known. As a respected tracker and archer within the tribe, his opinion was always taken into account in the Tribal Council, which filled Komir with pride. To receive the same respect that the tribe professed for his father was the most fervent of Komir’s desires, though rather inconceivable for the moment... yet something that perhaps someday, a day in the far-off future, just maybe he would attain...
    Though he doubted that.
    He hurried to help his father who started providing expert directives. Komir already knew them all by heart but still gladly listened. Once the animal had been prepped, father and son began the long descent from the high forests to the village.
    “Nervous about tomorrow, Son?” asked Ulis, placing his arm around Komir’s shoulder.
    “The Ceremony of the Bear... well... yes, I am, a little... I don’t much care for the tribe’s ceremonies,” Komir confessed with a sigh. The truth was he never had been well accepted in the village. Everyone looked at him with mistrust, so he preferred not being the center of attention whenever possible.
    “I understand, but don’t worry. Tomorrow will be a great day. You’ve already seen nineteen springs and you will become an adult warrior in the Ceremony of the Bear. From that moment on you will be a full-fledged member until your death. You will be a man, a Bikia of the Norriel; that’s something to feel very proud of.”
    Komir nodded, trying to absorb the importance that moment would have in his life. He would finally get to be a Bikia, by family and by right, and nothing and no one could ever snatch that privilege and duty away from him.
    “This final step in the development of young warriors of the tribe is vital to the survival of the Norriel people,” Ulis explained to him, “and it’s one of the most beloved festivals among the peoples of the tribes.”
    The thirty Norriel tribes honored the tradition every spring. They paid tribute to the tribal warriors’ passage—both women and men—from youth to maturity. From that distinguished day on, the young people became part of the tribal society with full rights and responsibilities as Norriel warriors.
    They continued their descent, following the bank of the river, chatting animatedly about the grand event.
    Komir stopped a moment, pensively looking in the direction of the distant village.
    “I’m worried I won’t do well, Father. It’s an important day and I want to make our family proud...”
    Ulis smiled. “Don’t worry so much; you’ll do fine. Enjoy the ceremony and what it represents. It’s a unique moment in your life that you will always remember. Take it from this old mountain hunter who still remembers that long-ago day when he became a Norriel Bear.”
    Komir returned his father’s smile and they continued on. As they walked, he contemplated the open fields surrounding them, lush with color and life, like a gigantic, multicolored woven blanket with thousands of interlaced threads of intense oranges, yellows, and greens. The soft spring breeze caressed the landscape, rhythmically rocking nature’s vividly colored cloak. Flowers swayed as if in a dance choreographed to the sound of the perfumed breath of the skies beneath the gaze of the eternal mountains.
    What a