Anticipation

The word is anticipation. This was a bit out of my comfort zone. 



 As Cyana hiked back to the village with her catch in tow, her chest swelled with pride.  A prize of this size would feed many.  Cyana had been lucky that it had been her blooding; instead of having to roam far into the forest, the scent of blood had drawn the animal to her.  It had been easy to trap, and now it stumbled along behind her, led by the rope she held.

Cyana could visualize the meat being turned on the spit over a roaring fire.  Her mouth watered in anticipation.  Other hunters preferred to skin their kills prior to cooking, but Cyan felt that it was best to let the skin char and roast, while the meat inside the skin was cooked. She could taste the sweet, juicy meat on her tongue now, even though it would be hours before it was cooked enough to be eaten.

When Cyana reached the edge of the village, Lelana, the Eldest, raised a hand in greeting.  Cyana handed her the rope, symbolically gifting the catch to the village.  Lelana's lyrical voice carried over the clearing, as the other elders circled the ensnared animal, their knives catching the sunlight.

"Here is food, Eldest,"  Cyana tried to keep the impatience out of her voice.  She was eager to get her catch ready for roasting.  This was part of the ritual, however, and disrespect was not allowed.

"Were you mated before the kill?"

"Yes, Eldest."

"Then the good of the tribe has been served."  Lelana spoke quietly, as she pulled ceremonial knife from her robe, and with a practiced flick of her wrist, slit the throat of the man, catching the blood in a bowl as the other elders stabbed the body until it stopped moving.  The stab wounds would be stuffed with spices prior to roasting; the thought made Cyana's mouth water once more. She stepped forward, grabbing an arm and dragging the dinner slowly to the cooking fires.