Free Huia Short Stories 10 by Tihema Baker Page A

only stopped twice, but it was night, so I slept most of the time. Dad let me bring my pillow; he threw a rug over me and I stretched out on the back seat. I’m not big, even though I’ll be ten next birthday, but Dad says then I’ll grow like a bean and be big and tall like him.
    Once or twice a year, Dad gets together with some of his mates and they go into the Ureweras, or anywhere there’s bush, pig hunting. He camps out for two or three days, and comes home tired and dirty but real happy, and with a load of either venison or pork. I’ve begged him to take me ever since I can remember, and he has always said he would when I was big enough. Dad never breaks a promise, so I believed him.
    Sometimes when he goes, Mum nags him to take Uncle George. Dad never wants to because he reckons George is a piss-poor shot and moans the whole time about being cold and not having enough to eat. Dad says if you can carry it on your back, you can take whatever you want, but otherwise forget it. He takes his shotgun, ammunition, a sleeping bag and some tins of food, and that’s about it. And when he goes pig hunting, he takes his knife.
    I love that knife, but it sort of scares me too. It’s long, about half the length of my arm, and the blade is so sharp, you could cut anything with it. Dad sharpens it once a week whether he’s going hunting or not, and you can see your face in the shine of the metal. When he’s finished Dad puts it into a leather sheath with a loop that fits on his belt. He calls it his Pig Sticker.
    We go up the steps to the back door, and I smell bacon. My mouth waters and my stomach rumbles. Although I had a hamburger on the way, it’s not the same as one of Aunty’s breakfasts. Dad knocks and goes in, and there’s Uncle George and my cousins Bill and Hemi all sitting at the kitchen table. There are eggs, bacon, sausages and big piles of toast, and my stomach rumbles louder than before.
    Aunty is pretty big, probably from eating all those breakfasts. She heads over to give Dad and me a hug. Dad’s ok with it, but I think she’s going to crush me and try to skip out from underneath. But I’ve no show, and before I get a chance to escape, she grabs me and gives me a big kiss. ‘You’ve grown, Mati,’ she says. ‘Soon be big and strong like your Dad, eh.’ And I almost forgive her the kissing thing.
    Uncle George stands and crosses over to my father. He punches him hard on the arm and says, ‘Hey bro, you’re putting on a bit of weight around the old puku.’ Dad smiles, but the crinkly bits at the corner of his eyes don’t move like they do when he thinks something’s funny.
    We sit down and my cousins tell me about the new puppies while I gulp down food and then a big cup of tea with milk and sugar. Uncle George watches me, and says to Dad, ‘Don’t you feed the boy? He sure can stack it away for such a scrawny runt of a kid.’
    Dad’s eyes glint at that but he doesn’t say anything, which sort of hurts me, and I decide I really don’t like Uncle George.
    Bill, Hemi and I go to look at the puppies, and they’re really cute. There are six of them. I pick up the smallest one. He’s soft like a pillow and snuggles under my armpit and whimpers. I’ve never had a dog – I wonder if Dad would let me have this one. ‘We’re going to get rid of him,’ says Bill. I ask why, but I already know the answer. Uncle George doesn’t like ‘scrawny runts’.
    My cousins take me eeling. We catch a big old grandfather, twice as fat as my arm and almost as tall as Dad. Bill cuts off the head and we poke it with a stick to see its teeth. They look sharp, like needles. I imagine what it would be like to have one bite me; to have one sink its teeth into my leg. It would be like the hook in Dad’s leg but one hundred times worse.
    We go swimming in the water hole. I try not to