The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. His face was red with cold, and his ears were covered in frost. His deerskin coat was tattered, and his mittens were wet.


He was unrecognizable. He walked a bit like a zombie across the frozen lake, oblivious to the loud cracking of the ice. Had he heard it, he may have given up.


His journey into the winter wilderness had began only a few days before, but he had lost track of time.


Koa was twelve years old and had journeyed into the mountains along with four other boys for their first hunt. However, the boys had quickly separated, each eager to prove themselves.


Koa had run into trouble within just a few hours. A pack of coyotes. Frightened, Koa hid in the branches of a low birch overnight. In the morning, he scarred the trunk and drank its sap.


But that was several days ago, and Koa was starving.


He came upon a frozen stream and timidly stuck a finger through the icy layer, into the water, and the shock of the wet cold against his flesh made him gasp.


As Koa began to follow the stream, he thought of his village far away. 


He thought that maybe the other boys had already hunted many animals and had returned home. They would have been rewarded with necklaces of bear claws, and declared brave and strong men, in front of the whole village. Koa felt bitter. Maybe he wasn’t strong or brave enough.


He continued walking, the ice cracking mischievously in the afternoon sun, until he came to the first semblance of humanity that he had seen in days: smoke. Beyond the tree tops in front of him he saw smoke rising.


He walked as fast as he could towards it, his boots sinking deep into the heavy snow. Soon, he could see the outline of a snow covered cabin. As he drew nearer, he saw there was only one small window, in which sat the limp remains of a summer’s flower. Koa knocked on the door. He peered into the window. The cabin was small, and there was only one room. There was a small cot tucked into the corner, and a stack of books next to it. There was a fireplace with blackened wood, and a tea kettle hung over it. In the middle of the cabin, sat a lantern, providing just enough light to see the room.


Koa pushed open the door, and stepped slowly inside. 


The cabin was much warmer than outside, and when he sniffed, he could smell a faint scent of cooked meat. It made his mouth water, and his stomach growled.


The cabin was empty but felt eerily of life. He looked around for a moment before an unexplained creak from across the room startled him.


Perhaps it was the hunger or fatigue, or perhaps a Spirit was spurring Koa on to complete his mission. Koa ran. He ran until hidden behind a large oak tree. He could see his breath in the air, like the great puffs of cabin smoke. He began to cry. He thought of how disappointed his father would be when he returned with nothing. 


If he returned. 


He made up his mind. If he was going to die in the wilderness, it wasn’t going to be because he just sat down to cry.


He thought of his mother, heating him warm milk, along with some rabbit when he returned. Or his little brother, Elki, welcoming him with a small smile. 


But then, the thought of the village laughing at him because he finished last. He shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He took out his knife, and crouched low to the ground, patiently waiting for a deer or rabbit. 


He heard a rustling in the bramble nearby. Out jumped a large snow hare. Koa remained still for a moment, waiting until the hare got just close enough that he was able to grab it. 


It was the encouragement he needed to go on. With his new-found energy, he glided into a stand of trees. Koa hunted for signs of large game, then noiselessly ran ahead of the signs, waiting, barely breathing, crouching among the sticks of last summer’s spicebushes. A young buck made its way through, stopping to nibble a stray acorn. Every one of Koa’s muscles reacted intuitively. Before his mind had made a decision, his legs carried him to the deer’s side, and his arms hugged the neck and pierced it in one fluid motion.


Koa prepared a rough sled of poplar wood and wild grapevines. He was ready.


He loaded his bounty and set off. He walked for a bit, in no particular direction, until he saw something. It was a blackened circle of ashes. Koa recognized it as the place he had camped his first night alone. He knew he must be close to the village, and his walk became a run, until he entered into the circular village ground.


It looked like a normal work day. He saw many woman sitting on blankets in the snow, sewing clothes for their children. He saw the men and older boys carving their hunting spears. He heard a baby crying and a mother singing. 


Then he heard a shout. Elki came running first and threw himself into Koa’s legs. He bent to embrace the boy’s small body. Koa looked up and saw his mother and father coming toward him. 


His father took the grapevine rein of Koa’s sled, examining the load. He patted Koa on the shoulder. 


Together they carried the buck to the fire, where they thanked him and prepared his body.


Koa told his father about the cabin he had seen in the woods. 


His father smiled. 


He told Koa a story about a small wood cabin hidden away for many years, built by a courageous and powerful hunter, for a sort of resting place. 


He said that the cabin had stayed there, long after the hunter died, and had been used as a shelter by all of the hunters that happened across it in search of a warm place to rest. He said it was as much a rite of passage to stumble upon the Hunter Spirit’s cabin as it was to complete a hunt.


He touched Koa’s hair and smiled at him.