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It was a very cool summer morning; the fresh clear air he breathed through his lungs felt good. as normal he was the first to rise, Kundilla always woke First. he peered at other sleeping forms hidden under animal skin blankets
There was no shortage of shrubs and trees this is why that spot is chosen for winter camps. Kundilla walked silently to perform his early morning rituals away from the camp. he went to a river. on his return he stopped along banks of the river to pull up all the fish traps he had set the previous day.
How peaceful it was , sounds of birds twittering high above , amid the leafy branches of the giant river gums , and the occasional splash of a fish in the river dawn was his favorite time of the day. it gave him time to meditate and reflect on what had happened in the past few days
little did he know that soon devastation and desolation would shatter this tranquil environment; that this pristine would echo with anguish...
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