It was the 18th century; a young native woman was sitting fireside warming herself from the chill of the morning air. The atmosphere was dense and foggy, and something within her spirit was stirring.Suddenly she heard a blast from a distance, and not far out of sight standing on a hill were the silhouettes of angry white men on horses, armed with weapons and rage. The tribe warriors readied themselves and the people cried out in terror, racing to defend their lives from the battle looming ahead. The sound of their shrill screams echoing through the valley.The young native woman ran as fast as her feet would carry her, but the sound of thundering hooves were quickly approaching and without warning her world submerged into darkness. It was nighttime when she woke, bare, and with no clothing. Battered and bruised. Around her were the remnants of old fires, women huddled around the bodies of the men they had lost. Crying and in prayer to the spirits. She had woken up from darkness into a nightmare. Many had been lost in this battle, and surely more battles would be ahead, but together they were strong, and they rebuilt. Weeks went by and the determination to preserve the Natives way of life grew. Also growing, was the belly of the young native girl. The battle had left her with irreparable scars, and now a child growing within her womb. She gave birth to a young male child months later. Some in the tribe cursed her for carrying this life into the world, and it also meant that she would not find a marriage partner within her tribe.Instead, she raised her son alone, with grace and wisdom. She focused on the gifts the Earth had given her. A medicine woman who healed the sick and loved the outcasts. As her son grew into a sturdy young warrior, one who married and had many children, her hair turned white with wisdom and knowledge.The warrior son protected his tribe relentlessly despite the glares and whispers that often followed behind him. And his mother befriended the birds and animals of the Land. A companionship greatest found between her and the great Eagle. The Eagle who swooped down to rest upon her forearm when she would call. The Eagle that soared the sky looking down at the valley in search of the white man that once came crashing down into the tribe with darkness. When spotted the great Eagle would return to the medicine woman and call out for them to prepare. The gifts of the Earth were the greatest defense against these men who fought with the evil creations of their own hands.With time, and with many victorious battles, the medicine woman and her half-blood son became well loved and respected by the tribe. The white man came in many decades before, leaving what they believed was great damage, and horrendous pain, but they planted a seed. They planted the seed of a great warrior and a wise woman. So, when the medicine woman died. They stood around her chanting in honor. Leaving with her a new name. "One Who the Eagle Hears."
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Short Stories From my Dreams and Imagination
Short StoryStarting a compilation of short stories and Ideas that I come up with. Some of them I hope to turn into full books using the plot ideas I come up with. I hope you all enjoy