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The Drawing Out

Of The Esteemed Buffalo

By Sound And The MessengerPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 5 min read
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Indian Paint

She was always a little scared when they went on the buffalo hunt, yet she was proud of him as well. Five days they were usually gone. The wind blew across the desert plains during this time and occasionally the sky would grow pregnant in the afternoon. It would then wash the land soon after, transforming everything from dry to wet and then low hung clouds would leave the tall canyon towers misty and fresh. She liked to take walks occasionally after the storms, as the sage was especially pungent after the rain had been with it, small raindrops clinging to the plants green flowers, seeking to hold onto the remnants of the storm for a little longer. Sometimes the thunder rolled deep in the night, droplets drumming on her sinew tepee and deep rumbling from closer and farther away mixing with the pauses in her heartbeat. She'd wake up, wet as the rain pouring outside on many of these kinds of nights and without him, her hands would dig deep under the furs. She'd soon find both of her legs moist and she'd sigh as she found her opening with soft fingers and imagine the way he could touch her slowly.

The hunting party returned on the evening of the fifth day as a low hanging moon captured the last of the daylight before the sun would escape below into the murky depths below a golden sky. Its departing presence would light up the clouds deep purple and then pink before letting the moon take over. He found her after parting with the men. The hunt had been successful. She noticed his confident smile as his gaze found her among the welcoming committee that had all gathered to see the group in. Immediately she felt naked in his gaze, completely vulnerable. She wondered if he knew that he could do that to her with his eyes. She wondered if he knew her feelings right then, her beating heart inside her tunic. Lost in that thought, in the next moment he was close to her and brushed some strands of hair that were shielding her eyes, the evening soft breeze being the tormentor to her, but also the accentor to him. Her long black hair was being tossed in the wisps of wind and was doing a fine job of outlining her femininity. He needed to breathe "mm Singing Fox”. The fox was the mystic creature of the lands as explained by the medicine man and known for generations. The slipping thought made him think of the painful experience of her losing her mother just a year ago. He remembered her tears and he thought of the buffalo just then that he had taken from the Earth, and immediately his heart was filled with a scent of sadness and deep gratitude for the animals gift to the tribe. He wondered if the deep purple sunset was celebrating its life right then as the light of the day was putting on its final show. He imagined her as a child with white flowers grasped in small hands, running around, giving her mother stress and love in different moments. He hadn't known her from that age as he had come from a different place, but he could imagine what she was like as he would sometimes watch the other young children at play. He also had a faint memory of what his sister was like at that young age. So much growth had happened with all of them. She had been given the name "Singing Fox" for her deep wisdom, but also playful view of life as that was seen in her as a child. He could see that in her now as he held her gaze. Her mother had named her.

Soon the welcoming procession exited as the flickering daylight was being swallowed up by the pure milky light of a now rising moon. There was be a dance tonight later, but that was later. They both stopped by their tepee to drop off his travel belongings and then he took her hand in his and led her on. "I think it's time" he said and she followed. They walked into the deepening moonlight. He was surprised how the moon had completely taken over so quickly. Just moments before it seemed he had been talking with his friend, Father Horse in the fading daylight and telling him his plans with her later. The party knew of their love for each other and departure from camp that evening. He respected the tribe greatly and never was reluctant to keep secrets from them. Now it was just him and her, approaching the shadow set canyon walls, some stars trying to sneak in and a find a seat next to a now glowing moon. She wondered where he was taking her. She hadn't been this way before. The tribe was constantly moving with the cycle of life and migration of the buffalo. Some locations they would revisit, but it was hard to know exactly where they were at any given moment in time. His strong lead only made her more excited. Soon they were pressing against the side of a lit up canyon wall, each feature and crevice of rock seeming to show off in the day like night scape as the moon conducted its own symphony. Then, when it seemed that no more progression was possible, she spotted the opening in the rock and heard the sound of dripping water emanating within steamy depths.. "How'd you find this?” She spoke and was immediately surprised at how her voice echoed into the caves enclosure. They hadn't spoken in sometime she realized, her voice feeling new. Each of them had basked in the night's unfolding movements. They had on occasion brushed by slightly damp sage brush on the way up and passed under the silhouettes of sleepy Juniper's, the trees seeming tired, but too excited to pass into dreams just yet. The slight damp feeling of the foliage made her ankles wet as they proceeded. This had given her a moments recollection of the deep thunder of last night, giving her a shiver as she realized she was now in the present, with her smaller hand in his.

To Be Continued...

beauty
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About the Creator

Sound And The Messenger

Hello and welcome. Creativity shows itself in a myriad of different ways for me. I intend to get out of my comfort zone on this page, be vulnerable and create. Follow me @soundandthemessenger

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