Running away from the scene, with no idea it was taking place, LaRee dashed through the trees and underbrush of the jungle.
He held the leather bag in hand as he sprinted. And LaRee soon realized that something was strange. The leather bag continued to jostle around awkwardly, as if something large and unexpected rested inside. LaRee thought, *Huh? What… did Dad pack into my bag?*
So LaRee stopped. His feet slid to a halt and undid the bag's clasp, which was made from water-polished stone and leather cord.
"What?! Why this!? Father?"
LaRee verbally gasped and shouted out of reflex. It was impossible not to while staring down at the folded, ancestral bow.
"Black Bolt…" LaRee stammered, pulling the bow out of the bag.
His finger trembled as he touched it. All his life, LaRee had watched his father wield the mighty bow. And LaRee could only dream of one day holding it after becoming the next chief.
