Maker-of-Ghosts reared up onto his back legs in an attempt to throw Pa’haana off, then dropped down on all fours again. All this took quite some time, a full season or more, and during this time Pa’haana managed to seize the shaft of his spear where it jutted out from the bear’s shoulder.
Pa’haana jerked the shaft free. The flint head of the spear, longer than Pa’haana’s hand, pulled out with it, coated with and dripping hot blood.
*Right through the eye, right into the brain. An immediate kill.*
This time, Pa’haana did not miss.
With an ear-splitting bellow, Maker-of-Ghosts collapsed onto its belly, tried to get up, fell. Breath voided the monster’s lungs, then the mighty chest rose not again. Pa’haana toppled off. He rolled to a stop on the ground. Blood mixed with pine needles and dead leaves.
Pa’haana lay on his back. He stared up at the interwoven branches of the trees, the sky between. Had Wakanti seen what he had done? Or did the trees hide it? Pa’haana hoped that Wakanti had been watching.
A face above his. Tobazhi. “Do not try to move!” the little man said. “I must stop your bleeding!”
“Do not bother,” Pa’haana said, though he did not think that Tobazhi could hear him speak with his mouth closed. “I have to die sometime, after all. I might as well get it over with.”