Have you forgotten that the mountains talk to each other, that they’re braided like roots? That the river you think is dry, isn’t? That the wind shifts and spins as well as sand and speaks like the Ancestors do? That their voices–those of the ones you tell the stories to in the dark–can be heard and their prayers have? That owls have talons, too? Did you think your twisted take on the medicine and tunnels would hide you forever? Why, oh why, did you choose to forsake your gifted way?