The Last of the Mohicans
They were the most sought after prize during their foraging times in the forest. Salmon berries, ripe, juicy, full of sweet, tart juice. Picking them as fast as they could, they popped them in their mouths, exploding flavor and the taste of sunshine. They beat their usual fare of pine needles, nuts and grass by far. Life in the woods was tough, but so much better with salmon berries. They should save some to dry for winter. Plan ahead, that was this tribe’s motto. Suddenly, a movement at the edge of the forest made them freeze.
“Kids! Come in now – time for dinner!”
Time at my grandma’s house frequently was spent outdoors, playing in a grove of evergreen trees at the corner of her lot. It was like our own private forest, complete with salmon berries, huckleberries, and a creek with tadpoles. It seemed as big as the world to us, and we loved to imagine ourselves living off the land. Going back to her place later in life, I saw it was really just a few trees and bushes, not the great outdoors I’d once imagined.
The photo prompt is courtesy of Madison Woods. Her story can be found here, along with links to all the other Flash Friday Fictioneers.