Chapter 15I drew breath easier once the summer solstice and the Sun Dance ceremony passed. Dances were dangerous as blood tended to run high, and the greatest ritual of all was this annual ceremony where the White Buffalo Pipe excited a grand passion among the tribesmen.
One day, Otter broke into my musing by drawing me to the porch to point out a black, lowering cloud to the south across the river. The roiling monster dragged a thick, dirty tail that sucked up dirt and brush and grasses, leaving a rusty basal cloud of debris and dust. Evil in its purest physical form!
“Tornado!” I muttered.
“Iya left the water,” Otter said quietly. “And Wakinyan went after him. They fight awful battles, and it is humans and animals who pay.”
Iya, I knew, was a giant, the son of Inyan, the First Being,
