Little Feather is deep in prayer as she presses her lips upon her flute.
She ponders the life force and the Great Spirit in the Sky. "How does
the mother except the ungreatfull child?" she ponders. Suddenly, the
flute speaks to her, "It is the desire to be loved and to be beloved."
"The manifestations of these feelings are felt in my throat, chest,
belly and clutch between my thighs. The turning of the tide pulls
open your secrets." she replied as the flute poured out its melody.
She had straddled a fallen oak that fell across a stream; that flowed
from a forgotten cave at the base of rocky mountain... The tips of
her toes strike the water, "The greateness of this sacred tree is
in the exquisite fruit it bares. It drinks only from the clearest springs."
She plays her flute gently as the owl snatches a river snake.
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