“Don’t worry, my son. There are others who have it worse than we do.”
“True mother,” his mother could always calm his heart. He walked on until he heard a horse whinny. There was an opening in the trail ahead of him. He took an arrow out of his quiver and put it in the bow. When he got to the opening she saw Salt leaning against the tree. They had met on several occasions, but Sundjata did not know him well.
“Are you going to use that on me?” Salt asked.
“I heard your horse. I am not very popular of late,” Sundjata said, putting the arrow back in the leather quiver.
Salt smirked and stood up. “Let’s try and keep you alive for a while.”
“I would appreciate that.” Sundjata looked back to see his sister and mother catching up.
The Spirits of the Land 