The scent of roasting beef filled the meadow.

Pungent smoke rose from the cookfire, swirling through the grass before disappearing into

the surrounding trees and little windblown wisps.

Every once in a while, one of the two men sitting cross-legged next to the fire checked their

meal.

It wasn't ready, not yet, and they returned to the tasks at hand.

One of them checked over the stack of tanned cow hides, making sure each one would be an

acceptable item of trade.

When he was finished, he took a bone tool in his hand and began softening the skin of

a rabbit hive with short, repetitive strokes.

The other used the sharp tip of a deer animal, to chip tiny, almost imperceptible pieces

of flint from the edge of a razor sharp arrowhead he was in the process of finishing.

The two men chatted back and forth as they worked.

About the best places around here to trap rabbits, where they might pasture their herds

of cattle over the coming winter, and what treasures they might get and return for their

hides when their training partners arrived.

They looked up from their tasks when the farmers arrived, paddling their dug out canoe

along the river that ran next to the clearing.

Two men and a woman hopped out into the shallow water, splashing barefoot as they pushed

the craft up under the shore.

Hands raised in greeting, they unloaded ceramic jars one by one, their liquid contents

sloshing with emotion.

...