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The Tundra Cavern...

That night I had a dream. I was in a cavern, a dusty cavern with old things covered with spider webs all over 'em. Then all o' a sudden, a huge snake come a slitherin' up to me. It's big ole tongue a stickin' out, as if 'e was a tastin' me. I didn't know what to do, so I's threw a stick at 'im a hopin' tha' it would scare 'im away.

There shall be a blue moon in one week, the Great Spirits told me. I's opened m' eyes just a crack, but still, the light came a floodin' through. I found myself blinkin' into bright light which flooded in from the teepee opening as an unknown girl came in. She was in rags, with a worn out light blue sun bonnet on 'er dark head. As she turned around to shut the teepee flap, I's noticed whip marks on 'er pink dress. She looked up.

"Were ya a slave?" I kinda rudely asked. Her dark sorrowful brown eyes fell on me and I regretted askin'.

"Yes," was the short reply. There was al long moment o' silence. She looked up to the ceiling of the small teepee. I looked up too.

"What do you see?" I asked in a whisper.

"The moon and the sun and all of the Great Spirit's creatures?"

"Where did you come from?"

"You wouldn't know; where'd you?"

"You wouldn't know."


The sun set behind the trees, ablaze in fire. I sighed. The girl's name was Angie. It turns out that she had escaped from the South, too.

Me an' Angie soon became good friends. We were the only two dark folks in the camp. Angie was shy. She had been beaten and beaten until she learned to keep quiet. I's was mighty sorry for her, being beaten an' all.

I was nearing my 15th birthday. I would become a hunter soon and go on a buffalo hunt in January. After the hunt I shall eat with Angie, then she will become my wife. I was might scared, hunting and all. I had been with the Indians for three years!! Angie 'n' me planned to stay with the Indians.

I wondered sometimes, as I cleaned my spears, what m' ma would think. As I lay in my teepee, I think of her, probably picking cotton, her hands sore. She is probably singing an old folk song, her deep brown eyes filled with tears, as she is whipped for being slow. My own eyes filled with tears, which Angie wiped away. "A brave hunter mustn't cry!" I smiled and hugged her. Crickets chirped in the distance.


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