It had been a very poor hunting year for the Choctaw Tribe. Little Fawn,
daughter of Wolf’s Tooth, sat in her wigwam, thinking about her hunger.
Not just Little Fawn, but everyone in the village was beginning to feel
the pangs of hunger. One month still remained before the ice would thaw
in the lakes, and the fish would begin to swim again, and the young
green sprouts of grass would burst through the earth and draw the game
back to the hunting ground. A grave decision had to be made. When the
Council had gathered, Wolf’s Tooth rose up and spoke.
“We need food. If we are not to starve, we must organize a strong
hunting party, and travel south to seek out the animals that have
wandered from our hunting grounds.”
There were many grunts of approval. The decision was made that a great
hunting party would leave the following day for the south. There was
much dancing and preparation for the hunt. Tough hickory bows were
tested again and again for weak spots. Sinew cords that were old or
might have weak spots were cast aside, and new ones strung on the
hickory bows. Knives and tomahawks were made ready. The tension mounted
until dawn when the hunting party started from the village toward the
south.
Little Fawn gazed slowly around the encampment and immediately noticed
that all the strong young braves were gone. All that remained were the
old men, the sick, the women and children. This bothered Little Fawn,
until she thought to herself, “What could happen? Nothing. We will be
safe as long as we stay in our village.”
Before the men left on the trip, they had been so confident they would
bring back home an ample supply of meat that they gave their families
extra rations of meat and greens which they had been guarding well. Some
of the families were careful and, though given plenty, still used the
extra food sparingly; but many of the families could not resist the
temptation to feast, and built up fires to cook the extra meat and
greens. It was just this mistake that nearly cost many of the remaining
Choctaw people their lives.
Just as the families were sitting down to eat, a howl echoed from out of
the forest and then another and another from different directions. The
women became frightened and some of the children began to cry. Some of
the men began to cry too, because they realized that they were old and
sick and could give little help to the women and children against the
danger that was now just outside their village.
How well they knew the sounds which came from the forests on the edge of
the camp! The wolves were hungry, for their hunting season had been a
poor one too. These lean and starving savage beasts had been drawn to
the outskirts of the village by the smell of the large quantities of
meat cooking in the many vessels throughout the village. The howling
continued, and it grew louder as many more voices joined the circle of
wolves slowly closing in on the village.
Food and hunger were forgotten by the older squaws as they hurried to
carry their children to the comparative safety of the wigwam. Suddenly,
all were stricken with panic except Little Fawn. Though her little heart
pounded in her breast, Little Fawn searched her mind for a solution to
this threat of death to her people. She ran quickly to her home and
there found her younger brother, Flying Squirrel, crouched in the corner
of the wigwam, shaking with fear. Slowly she explained to him that he
must stop shaking and listen carefully. Though only a young boy, she
told him, he must now become a man. He must leave immediately upon the
trail of the hunting party to bring help to the village while she,
Little Fawn, stayed behind to do whatever she could to help her people.
Flying Squirrel knew the job he must do. So he immediately set out upon
the trail of the hunting party, helped by the bright moon and driven on
by thoughts of his brave young sister who was staying behind to face
this howling menace of a pack of wolves. Both fear and courage lent
wings to his feet as he sped through the circle of wolves and down the
trail in pursuit of the hunting party.
Meanwhile, Little Fawn called two other young Indian girls to her and
explained that the only reason the wolves were staying as far from the
village was their fear of the many fires which still burned brightly in
the village.
“So,” Little Fawn said, “it is our job to keep those fires burning all
night, and to make torches and light them on the edge of the village to
keep the wolves away.” Reluctantly the girls agreed, and fires were
built up. The three girls made torches of pine knots and placed them in
a wide circle at the edge of the village.
All night they kept the fires burning, and all night the howling of the
wolves kept up. With the coming of dawn, however, the wolves scurried
back into the forest. Only then did the girls who had helped Little Fawn
decide to take a much needed rest. But Little Fawn could not rest
because she was so worried about her little brother, Flying Squirrel. At
just about this time, he reached the hunting party and, after explaining
what had happened, collapsed in the arms of his father.
Wolf’s Tooth chose a half dozen warriors and immediately started home
for the village which was almost a full day’s journey away.
Back at the village, Little Fawn was busy gathering wood for the fires
that coming evening. Soon many willing hands were helping in this task.
As the day wore on, Little Fawn anxiously watched the south trail for
signs of the returning warriors. As the sun began to set, Little Fawn
began to wonder if Flying Squirrel had been able to reach Wolf’s Tooth
and his band. Little Fawn knew that the wolves would be back after the
sun set.
It grew dark fast. Little Fawn went to look at the many torches around
the village, lighting any that had gone out and preparing once again for
the long wait. As she reached to set another torch ablaze, she heard a
low, threatening growl almost beside her. Turning slowly around, Little
Fawn found she was gazing into the sharp eyes of a hungry wolf who must
have followed her right to this spot. Little Fawn drew back in fear
until her back pressed against a hickory tree as the wolf crouched to
spring. There was no escape and Little Fawn faced the wolf trembling.
The wolf leaped. There was the sudden twang of a bowstring. A howl of
agony came from the throat of the wolf as the arrow struck home. The
rescue party had arrived just in time. Wolf’s Tooth’s arrow had found
its mark. The rescue party killed most of the wolves and drove off the
rest of the pack. All the next day Little Fawn and her brother, Flying
Squirrel, were thanked and praised by her tribe.
Wolf Tooth told them: “I am very proud of my children. My son moves even
more swiftly than a flying squirrel. My daughter may be as gentle as a
little fawn, but she is braver than a pack of wolves.”