The PriZin of Zin by Loretta Sinclair

poles tied together at the top. They were huge hides, all of the same type. They looked to be some sort of buffalo or moose hide. Each was slick and shiny, oiled for protection against the rain and mist. There was a smoke hole at the top, and a fire pit in the center of each for warmth in the winter time. Nobody needed a fire now. The weather was warm enough to live without. A flap of hide sufficed as the door for each.
    Hunter waited to see what Mikey and the other Bigfeet would do, but they all remained out in the field, playing with rocks and sticks. It looked to him like they were play-fighting using the sticks as swords, and throwing the rocks at targets. As they finished each encounter, the Bigfeet all made a half-purring, half-gargling noise, sounding almost like an eerie laughter. Wookies!
    Left alone in the midst of the natives, Hunter would have to go it alone.
    “Who is your chief?” he asked.
    The girls closest to him giggled and shied away.
    “Do you have a leader?”
    More giggling. When the giggling stopped, the small sea of children parted and an older man walked through to greet Hunter. He stopped directly in front of Hunter, looking him up and down. The newcomer smiled and nodded for him to follow. Turning, the older man walked away and entered the largest teepee in the tribe.
    Hunter followed.
    Inside the tent, sitting in a circle around an empty fire pit, were what appeared to be all of the tribal elders. Eight older men, wrinkled and sun-worn with age, sat circled around the exterior of the tent. They all smiled in greeting, and motioned for Hunter to sit with them. Glancing back over his shoulder one last time, Mikey was nowhere to be seen. Hunter stepped forward and sat down with the tribal council.
    They sat in silence for a moment, passing something around the group. When it got to Hunter, he recognized a basket of pine nuts, the same as he’d eaten for supper the night before. It wasn’t until this moment that Hunter realized how hungry he was again. He reached into the basket and took out a small handful. Tossing them into his mouth, he waited for the flask to come around next.
    Ahhh, cool water . Hunter drank to wash down the nuts, and to wash away his parched throat. Water never tasted so good.
    Without realizing it, he drained the flask, leaving nothing for the remainder of the elders to his right.
    “Oh,” he said, realizing his mistake. “I’m sorry. Let me get some more.” He started to stand, but was motioned back down by an extended hand from the man in charge, the eldest of the group, who’d eyed Hunter since he entered the teepee. He nodded at Hunter to sit, and clapped his hands.
    Three of the young girls, who’d ogled Hunter’s blond hair outside, came to the call. Still giggling, they took the empty flask and handed the elders several full ones, then disappeared outside. The basket of pine nuts was offered to Hunter a second time, and he gratefully took another handful, and an entire flask of water to himself.
    “How did you come here?” the oldest of the elders asked.
    “We fell through the earthquake.”
    “We? There are more of you?”
    “Yes,” Hunter answered, “my best friend, my little sister, and my father.”
    “Where are the others?”
    “I don’t know about my friend or my sister,” Hunter said, “but my father was taken by a serpent.”
    “A large serpent?”
    Hunter nodded.
    “With a red diamond head and razor-sharp teeth?”
    Hunter nodded again.
    “So he has been taken to the prison of the lost. Did you meet Alistair?”
    Hunter nodded. “He told me to seek out the warriors to help me. Mikey brought me here.”
    “Mikey?” the leader asked.
    “Oh,” Hunter smiled. “I named the Bigfoot ‘Mikey’. He brought me here.”
    For the first time, the tribal elders broke into large smiles. “Mikey is an appropriate name for the creature. And what do you want from us?”
    “Can you help me rescue my father?”
    “We can equip you for your