~
Chisa, now several months older sat and contemplated life…. The sun, warmed her pelt in a way that felt of her mother, warm and constant. This was life, her life.

She had a lovely first summer and would eagerly await more with tribe kin. Now fall changed the leaves among the rocky cliff sides, a bright red they became. Wondering what this would bring for the ravine, the wind would blow as chill as spring water in the evenings.

She thought of Zoug, and mother and siblings. To her, Zoug was father, if not by blood she thought, but by spirit. “Chisa wishes to talk to mother,” she silently thought to herself, “would mother answer this one’s questions?” Could the spirits hold the answer if not given by mother?

The wind blew again, ruffling her fur. With this, she stood up to walk toward home, the swiftly setting sun warming her back.
~