Teaching OneEar
Patience is the secret. The young ones come and ask me to teach them. They want the rush, the blood, the thrill. They don't want to hear about patience. OneEar no more than the others.
He came to me all puppy eager.
"Teach me to kill, OldOne," he said. "I want to taste blood."
I cuffed him and turned away, but he wouldn't give up. Where ever I went, OneEar was there, begging me to teach him. I was tempted to change his name to NoEar,. But, if patience is the first lesson, persistence is the second. I took him with me on my next hunt.
"Walk quietly." I instructed him. We loped away through the heavy forest. OneEar panting behind me. When he turned his head as a squirrel chittered from a tree, he tripped. I turned to stare at him, trying not to laugh while he tried to look like some other pup had made all that noise. The squirrel did laugh and OneEar growled.