He reached out for the snake tethered to the rock gripping it firmly behind the head; with the other hand he gently forced its fangs through the leather membrane covering the ostrich egg. Within seconds he had enough poison for his needs.
From the quiver he selected two arrows straight and true, discarding the rest. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled the point of each in the venom and set them aside to dry.
He checked his bow-string, pulling back gently, feeling the tension running through the precious wood.
Tomorrow he will fight the men with their diggers and their drills.
Written for Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge.