To be honest, I don’t really feel Inktober all that much. I draw mostly with pen and ink anyway so dedicating all my time to it is something I already do. So, to spice it up I decided to practices writing fluff and lore to go with my drawings. Plus, I do need to start posting more anyway so why not get started with this right?
Anyway, today’s prompted was swift.
Ol’ Swift had been a hunter for the tribe for years now. He was as brave and as strong as the tribe’s youngest warriors and had years of experience to fall back on. So, when the croc caught the pack off guard one day during the hunt, he jumped in first knowing the young ones did not stand a chance. He won, but it cost him.
After barely avoiding being eaten whole he had started favoring his left arm. He lost his namesake of being the swiftest swimmer in the pack, but not his pride. He hunted mostly in the shallows now, fish and clam being his game. The youngsters still looked up to him. Despite no longer braving the rapids with the rest of the pack, he had gained a new reputation.
Ol’ Swift was just as fast on land as he was in the lakes. Anything hopping in the woods, or skimming the shallows soon found itself dinner for the tribe. Ol’ Swift was as ruff and splintery as his fishing spear. The head was carved from the tooth that bit down on him that day, and the shaft is the one his father’s father gave to him. He had gotten it from his, and in the customs of the tribe, Swift was expected to pass it on to his grandson. The only thing about that part was that Ol’ Swift was never able to catch him a wife.
That was fine with him though. He still had plenty time for that when he got too old to hunt. He wasn’t letting this spear down anytime soon. The season just started after all, and the shallows were rich…