Dahozhoni Meadow Ridin since sunup.

At his words, a twinkle in her eyes. Her face lit up like a child’s, and he felt like the spotlight was shining right on him. He didn’t have much in the way of “hero” stories, but some that were passed down, things he had heard. 

The excitement building between the two made way for a long conversation: “To start, little missy,” he began with a wink, “I’m from a place called Wyoming. Great plains, forests, geysers, Rocky Mountain ranges, and oh so many other things to see.” With each word spoken, a bold passion backed it. Oh, how he loved being able to talk about his home. “As for stories, being that my life only started a year ago, I don’t have much to offer. But I’ll give you what I can.” So he thought for a few moments, thinking, and then one good one came to him. “My father is a master Bison hunter back home. He’d always lead the hunts when they were after those big thundering creatures. On every full moon, our pack would have a small feast of all sorts of edibles, and he would be the one to present the bison meat.”

Once he finished his short story, he now turned the tables to Paeon. “What about you, miss Paeon? What’s your story?” His eyes showed a youthful curiosity.