Голодные игры

           Ihurry,loadedbowinonehand,ahunkofcoldgrooslingintheother,becauseI’mfamishednow,andnotjustforleavesandberriesbutforthefatandproteininthemeat.Thetriptothestreamisuneventful.Oncethere,Irefillmywaterandwash,takingparticularcarewithmyinjuredear.ThenItraveluphillusingthestreamasaguide.Atonepoint,Ifindbootprintsinthemudalongthebank.TheCareershavebeenhere,butnotforawhile.Theprintsaredeepbecausetheyweremadeinsoftmud,butnowthey’renearlydryinthehotsun.Ihaven’tbeencarefulenoughaboutmyowntracks,countingonalighttreadandthepineneedlestoconcealmyprints.NowIstripoffmybootsandsocksandgobarefootupthebedofthestream.

           Thecoolwaterhasaninvigoratingeffectonmybody,myspirits.Ishoottwofish,easypickingsinthisslow-movingstream,andgoaheadandeatoneraweventhoughI’vejusthadthegroosling.ThesecondI’llsaveforRue.

           Gradually,subtly,theringinginmyrighteardiminishesuntilit’sgoneentirely.Ifindmyselfpawingatmyleftearperiodically,tryingtocleanawaywhateverdeadensitsabilitytocollectsounds.Ifthere’simprovement,it’sundetectable.Ican’tadjusttodeafnessintheear.Itmakesmefeeloff-balancedanddefenselesstomyleft.Blindeven.Myheadkeepsturningtotheinjuredside,asmyrighteartriestocompensateforthewallofnothingnesswhereyesterdaytherewasaconstantflowofinformation.