Duck Lake blue heron

The other woman had said something similar.  It was different, however, for one who led.  As Wealda she had sought to balance tradition with growth.  It seemed he was driven by a legacy, maybe stronger even than the one that had hung heavy on her shoulders.  Many ways to live. She stated it simply, not as an argument but as a fact.  We choose what we know.  She did not mind this.  It helped to know that such a thing was a pattern, something with the beating heart of a history behind it.

Until we cannot.  And a new way comes.  She would learn.  She had not expected to find a pack like this when she'd arrived at the river but they had fed her until she grew strong.  Now it was time for her to do what she could to build them.  If this meant running with the caribou, and growing no roots, then she would accept this as her future.  It would remain until a new way was needed once more.

She kept her ears turned to him as she stepped towards the kill and tore a portion from it.  Red woman.  Her name would always echo her mother.  She would wear it with pride.