The rolling hills lined with wild flowers, the color of violet, lavender and amber surrounding me, swaying in the wind. My home just five trees back then a narrow path to a hilltop overlooking my tribe. It’s a sunny day today, as the wind gently unwraps my hair from its braids, my tan skin touches a long stem of holly hock. I had come here to pick berries for my sick grandmother, my rugged moccasins barely covering my toes as they kick dirt on my long white skirt.
It all changes so fast as I hear tamed horses connected to harnesses , and then suddenly they come into sight, a tall man who does not like my race comes to me. He looks into my hazelnut eyes. I can’t see him because of his brim hat shading him from the sun. A dirty beard overlaps his chin, he is ….. a cowboy. Suddenly he grabs me, I scream, but no sound comes out, I am in shock, no one hears. He throws me on his horse and rides away with me
I wake, now the sky is dark with stars glittering in the burned ashes. The men are snoring, sweat pours from their skin as they sleep. I am trying to cut loose, but I cannot loosen the knots. I try again, then finally giving up. When I awake I feel a stabbing pain in my stomach, it is the knife in my pocket for cutting berries. I use it and slowly cut loose, I grab a horse, making sure it is the best one that is well rested.
Two days later……
I ride, when I see the hill overlooking my tribe I realize I am lost again this is not the right hill-top and there is no forest for miles only prairie. I come to another tribe, the sweet beans and rice and honey touch my tongue again, I am not at home but am free, and away from the whites.
Tomorrow I ride and find my home, for now I map my rolling hills.
Juliette Fain 11 years
The photos do not belong to me, my mom bought them in Arizona at the Talking Stick. thank you!
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