As if within her, beneath the span of her own days, there are other hunts going on continuously, giant elk in flight from the pursuit of hunters other than herself, and the birth of other mountains being plotted and planned other mountains rising, then, and still more mountains vanishing into distant seas and that even more improbable than her encountering that one giant elk, on her first hunt, was the path, the wandering line, that brought her to her father in the first place, that delivered her to him and had made him hers and she his the improbability and yet the certainty that would place the two of them in each others lives, tiny against the backdrop of the world and tinier still against the mountains of time.
But belonging to each other, as much in death as in life. Inescapably, and forever. The hunt showing her that.
Copyright © 2006 by Rick Bass. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
- PW Starred Review
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