I went to the local museum a month ago. There was a visiting high school there for a tour (so I wasn’t the one who HAD to ask all the ‘dumb questions’; there were students there to ask on my behalf [grin]). The tour guide (the curator) was explaining how Red Man used to send out a 14 y/o boy, naked, with NO provisions. He was instructed to make his own clothing, tools, and feed himself until he was allowed to return at the NEXT full moon. A sob escaped my lips, and I wiped away a few tears before any of the kids noticed. In 3 nanoseconds, I was jealous of the 14 y/o boy for being allowed to strike out on his own, hated myself for sending him out, began planning a hunt just before the next full moon so he’d share a FEAST with us featuring prime venison or buffalo upon his return, and planning to reintroduce him to a too-long sad, little girl who only sat around, forlornly, missing him all the time he was away.