SpiritFeather12

Everlasting Peace The wind rustled the leaves of the old willow tree, as Cheyenne Arrow leapt, graceful as an arrow from a bow, and landed delicately on the hard rock under the great tree, named Katutura, and sang her happiness with the cold wind that blew from the prairies below. She knew nothing but happiness. She and her tribe, Onandowaga, the people of the mountains, were blissfully happy, springing and climbing the great trees, sliding on pelt covered wood, down the snowy slopes, and singing their tribal songs around the campfire, drinking cocoa bean juice, and eating fine salad from the generous farmers down on the prairie. Everything w