Bitterroot Valley a green truck hummed low

Friede finished placing the stones and stepped back to begin her prayer: O High Elk, bring me food or whatever. I’m not particular, but yeah, food would be nice. She peeked open an eye to see if the fabled creature might be near, though there was only a small, sickly squirrel.

OK, thanks, she sneered to Him, before moving into position to begin her hunt. The squirrel appeared submissive to her act, as though giving silent permission to be killed; one request with which she could, and would not argue.