Free Coyotes & Curves by Pamela Masterson Page B

moving down from the tribe’s winter grounds, and it’s nice to be back upon the plains.
    Little Deer passes through several teepees, before reaching the ends of the grounds, where a small thicket of trees stands with a worn path leading to the river’s edge.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice squeaks from behind a large dogwood tree, breaking Little Deer’s frolicking mood.
    “Go away, Two-fucking dogs!” she screams at a native boy – a little Wa’lalow (pest) – Who has followed, undetected through the camp, and now intent on harassing the older girl. “You need to go away. I’m on my walk to the river.” She continues. Swiftly the girl grabs a small stone, hurling it accurately; effectively hitting the boy, doubling him over long enough for her to make an escape on an undetected route.
    “I hope Sogwili gets you!” the boy angrily shouts; shaking his fist as she disappears into the brush.

 
    ~
     
    He watches as she moves – her delicateness making his mouth water as she tiptoes gingerly skipping along without a care in the world.
    The protruding snout is held high in the air with nostrils following her scent; and a curled lip exposes a row of needle sharp fangs dripping with saliva – his Coyote is howling inside. He fights the desire to jump from the saddle and rip out her throat. However, he’s long in tooth, with age and experience having taught him restraint. His hand curls tightly around the horn of the saddle while the other pulls on the rains, and with a small heeling, he turns the mount away; and begins slowly creeping undetected towards the Indian camp from where she came… There will be time for the young woman, later – What a waste, he thinks, growling as he reluctantly travels away.
    He’s Red Granger, the Sheriff of Rock Ridge, and he’s traveled up river from the small town to keep an eye on the local tribes, who’ve recently moved down from the mountains to their summer hunting grounds; where they wait for the Buffalo. He’s feeling weak – even a lousy gopher would be an exquisite meal after the human swill he’s had to eat as of late – Cooked meat – the thought making his stomach heave. He doesn’t know how they do it; cooking a perfectly good piece of meat until it’s just a dried up hunk. Too many nights caught up with non-shifting guest have left him sick and cranky on the trail.
    He had been visited by Major Kearny, the commanding officer at Fort Ronson, who wanted him to locate the girl and her tribe. Kearney informed him of the Government’s plan to remove all of the local natives through a government approved plan of extermination.

~
     
    The morning’s dew feels good with blades of grass tickling the undersides of her feet as they glide across the tops – leaving a petite foot printed trail behind her as she goes. The aspen trees turn to small saplings, followed closely by hanging willows; signaling the river’s edge. There’s always a good feeling that comes with the beautiful sounds of the precious liquid as it forms in little pools and rushes over rocks, making its way to the places unseen – the world of the water people .
    Little Deer loves the stories, her grandmother tells – they’re always filled with mystery and intrigue, designed to make the listener ponder the tale, helping to find the hidden messages and spiritual guidance locked within its realms.
    There’s a loud snapping of a twig! Little Deer turns swiftly – A rabbit lifts its head to investigate, while nibbling on a small tuft of grass. Surmising the human may be coming a little too close, it moves quickly, dropping the grass and darting underneath a bush.
    – No Sogwili , the girl thinks solemnly, followed with a sigh, as she continues traveling on.
    Reaching the river’s edge she disrobes and waits… and waits… and waits; eventually loosing hope, and lying down in the grass where she slowly falls asleep, dreaming of Sogwili Wa’toli, and becoming a