THE DOLPHIN

One by one, the others dejectedly retreated back to the community to pray to Pachamama, mother nature, to keep the hunter safe from harm. Yet the hunter’s friend remained on the beach, his lance leaning on the branch on which he sat, his hands idle or else plucking the leaves on the tree then pulling them tight between his fingers and blowing through them to call out to his friend. Sometimes he even whistled to see if he would get a reply.

By now, the sun was steadily falling from the sky and even he had to admit that if his…