Bonesetter by Laurence Dahners

before, he took it in with new eyes. During his struggle, he had broken off a couple of sticks and branches, which had then protruded into the tunnel on a slant. They were what had been poking into him when he tried to back out the other way. He noticed some blood on one of them, he couldn’t remember being stuck badly enough to start bleeding though. He smelled it—it was fresh boar’s blood! The little boar, which had just escaped him, must have been trapped here for a while too! He wondered if he could wait a while and some other animal would come along and get trapped? Well they wouldn’t come in here if he were here; his scent would keep them away. But, could he get back in here before they got free? If he did would he be able to take on a boar in such close quarters? Maybe if the sticks were sharper they would kill the boar for him? While contemplating it he began scraping the one that had blood on it, thinking to diminish the scent of blood. As he did so he realized that he was bringing it to a point like a spear and then he began to do so purpose fully . It was made of a springy wood that made it easy to push aside but tended to hold it out in the center of the tunnel. He realized that it was easy to get by going one direction but not the other! Inspiration struck and he began finding similar branches, sharpening one end and wedging them into the surrounding branches so that they sloped into the center of the tunnel. He moved a few paces the other way and did the same thing, this time making the little spears so that they faced the opposite direction. This made a small section of the tunnel that was easy to get into by brushing the spears aside, but once within it the spears faced you from either direction. Pell would be able to get out by careful use of his hands, but he thought that a boar would be stuck for quite a while. He climbed out of the little tunnel, intending to sit up on the side of the ravine and wait for an animal to try to go through the tunnel. Then he would dash in to kill it before it could get loose. Unfortunately, the sun was getting low. He didn’t want to get caught out after dark with big cats and other night predators so he he aded back to the Aldans’ cave. He r esolv ed to come back out and sit by the ravine in the morning.
    When Pell got back to the cave there was a celebration in progress. He trotted up to his mother, Donte and asked her what had happened.
    “Another kill of a small boar, this time by Belk. Even better—Gontra popped his own finger back in!”
    “ Gontra popped his finger back in?!”
    Donte didn’t notice Pell’s dismay at the news. “Yes, yes, isn’t it wonderful? He fell into a bush and when he pulled his hand back out the finger was straight! He was chasing one of the big boars at the time, you know one of the same kind that he was hunting when his finger was hurt to begin with. Pont says he had been praying to the spirit of the big boars all day today. So, the spirit must have heard the healer’s call and decided to give Gontra his finger back… Pell are you OK?”
    Pell felt as if he’d been poleaxed. “Gontra, put—his own, finger back?” he repeated stupidly.
    “Yes, yes, well actually the Boar Spirit did it. What’s the matter with you?”
    Pell looked up and saw Gontra staring at him. Gontra looked nervously over at Pont who was all dressed up in his ceremonial finest. Gontra looked back at Pell and quickly shook his head. Then he lightly put his finger over his lips, shaking his head again. Pell sat down where he stood, feeling lightheaded. So much for his hopes of being recognized upon his return this evening! The most important thing he had done in his life—and all that he would get out of it would be one shoddy knife, already broken? Not even a real “thanks” from Gontra? No one was to even know that he had accomplished it? For a moment, Pell thought to announce to the camp what had really happened, but he realized in time, though