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Lying on his back in the tall grass, Hunting Owl gazed at the clouds and ruminated. The quandary was like no other he had experienced or even heard song of in his 14 hunts. This much was true: Viable Corn was an attentive wife and a sturdy bearer of offspring. During the winter sojourn, she carried more weight than any other female of sled-dragging age. And did she not allow him to mount her in the time and manner of his choosing whenever the fever of mating overtook him?

Why then should his loins burn so for Destiny's Child, a young female barely out of her first season of lamentation? So strong had the desire grown, Hunting Owl could now mount Viable Corn only in the fashion of wolves, that her face would not scare away the spirit vision of Destiny's Child, which would visit him at these times. Now a new, more confusing vision played as vividly before Hunting Owl's eyes as the very clouds: Destiny's Child taking suck of Viable Corn's dugs, and then making feast of her birthing soil. What did this vision mean, Hunting Owl wondered, and why did it stir in him the fever of mating?