It takes a Village

When I was a young Yellow Cub, growing up in a Native American village was a tough time, but it made me astute. The wise elders would advocate about becoming one with the tribe and the whole tribe is my family. I loathed the tribe and the nefarious tortures we did to other rival tribes. My dad, Blue Crow, taught me how to throw a spear and shoot a bow. But, one day as I was trying to shoot the bow a vexatious mosquito buzzed around my head and it made me shoot my dad in the leg. One week later the cut got infected and my father died due to a malady. My little brother, Lone Wolf, and I had to solicit help from the rest of the tribe. The most amicable person in the tribe was the healer, Sir-mix-a lot. He scrutinized the mistakes we made so we could not repeat them again. However, Lone Wolf was ineffectual at mediocre tasks and was banished by Chief Red Bull. When I had enough training I could go hunting on my own. On my first hunting trip I saw a monster bear so I lifted my bow and shoot it squared in the heart, the tribe was so proud, that was the day I earned the name Golden Bear.





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