Whitewater Gorge The Door of Death is made of Gold

a smile wreathed kukutux' features. "a watcher of stars. where i am from, they are important. shamans," she murmured shyly. "sdax ukuxtakuq," she went on. "that is what the little ones would say, when the brighter ones came to the sky."

from where had she come — the duck's smile faltered; she busied herself continuing the visual search for any herbs that might aid agana. "it is a place that is no more," her soft voice uttered. spotting a sprig of spearmint sprouting above the cold earth, the girl pulled away a moment, plucking it before returning to the woman's side.