Native Canadian
"A hunter knows he is never alone." She had heard Father say that once.
Aneze looked into the trees. She spoke out loud to the bush. "There's always you, Chickadee," she said to the small birds skittering above. "And if I stare long enough at the sky, I'll see you, Eagle, circling with your wife. You will show me where Rabbit and Vole are hiding. And nearby in the stream, you are swimming, Jackfish. And you, Beaver, you are working on your house."
"You see," Aneze told the woods. "I'm not alone at all."
"Many years ago, when the world and I were younger, my family defied the government."
Igvillu said to herself, "When I grow up, I am going to be a St. Bernard."
She dreamed about running in the deep, pure-white snows of the Alps and rescuing skiers.
She dreamed of running, running so fast, chasing wolves with sleek Irish wolfhounds. She dreamed of hunting with dingoes in Australia.
She dreamed of splashing in clear waters fetching ducks with golden retrievers.
But most of the time she dreamed about pulling huge, heavy sleds with big huskies, way up north.
