Creative Writing: Beowulf

Waking up under my families lean-to next to my sister, Wihakayda just like every morning. The early rising sun illuminated the crystal clear gulf a few miles away from our hut. My parents had gotten up before me like usual. Dowanhowee, my mother was washing blackberries off and cooking a pitiful amount of fish over a ginormous roaring fire. The brave and noble warrior Akecheta was my father and he had caught them last night when he was out arrow fishing. This was all we had to eat for breakfast today. My dad was one of the best wrestlers in our village. He had earned a spot on the council and was currently there in a conference trying to figure out with the other leaders how we are going to make our food last. I had a few ideas on how to

get food to perish later, but my dad was always either hunting or in a council meeting. Otherwise recognized as too busy for me. When we came back from the river and our food was spoilt, I noticed that the food was always hot. I thought that maybe if we put our fishing in the algid clay banks and washed the clay off later the food would be better. Another thought I had was incorporating pummeled berries with alligator lard to keep them better protected and insulating the chilling effect better than nothing would.