"The first winter storms will soon come, and the herds will migrate south," said an old hunter. "If the hunting continues to go poorly, many of us will not survive the winter. The young mothers' breasts will no longer produce milk, and before spring arrives, all their babies will die."
The other men stared silently into the fire. They knew the old man spoke the truth, and they felt ashamed because today's hunt had yielded almost nothing. They had returned dead tired by evening with nothing more than a few meager Arctic hares.