Hania leaned her head back against the old, torn car seat of her uncle’s pick-up truck, one arm out the window despite the heat. “Are you sure about this, Nia?” Uncle Whitefeather asked, his deep and gravely voice much like his solemn eyes as he glanced over at his niece. His hand ruffled her hair and she merely grinned before stretching and looking out the window.
“I want to be closer to my mother.” Hania’s soft but slightly deep voice expressed conviction despite her calm brown eyes. Uncle Whitefeather nodded after a long moment, the dusty scenery around them much like their own home within the Cha’tima tribe. Smiles found there way to both their lips as a hawk flitted along the Mesa and over their destination point.
“A rather fortuitous sign.” He said and she quickly nodded in agreement. The Hawk was often depicted as a spirit messenger of the Sky Father, the representation of males in a way. Signs of Mother Earth on the other hand were everywhere, both within and without. She nervously rubbed her hands on her jeans before hopping out of the truck the second it slowed, dust kicked up around her boots as the sun beat down on her skin.
“I’m going to place the kachina.” Her uncle merely nods his head silently as she holds up a small leather pouch. It felt so good to move after such a long drive, she could feel the sky press down on her, and she boldly pressed back up against it.
She had never been much of a runner but today she had wings for legs as she raced down the cliff side. She halted and caught her breath as her gaze looked down into the valley, her blood roared in her ears and her mouth released a hawk’s cry.
It was beautiful, Oasis springs. Here she would give birth to the next branch of the Cha’tima tribe just like Mother Earth gave birth to mankind. Tradition was important, it meant that you remembered.
Hania squinted at the sky line and double checked the sky before digging a hole. She tugged open the small leather bag and pulled three small braids from it. “Mother, I bury this piece of you here so that you may look over my journey, my beginning.” She prayed softly as she braided the pieces of hair together once again. “Give me Vision and Spiritual wisdom.” She whispered as she placed the hair back on the bag and buried it.
She ran about finding flowers and rocks to make a ritualistic circle around the burial site before she returned to her uncle. She merely hugged him in silence as she caught her breath. “Blessings little Whitefeather. Remember the strength in your name. You have the spirit of a warrior and we saw that you have the Sky Father’s approval as well. I will let the tribe know so the ancestors are free to assist you.” He placed a solemn kiss on her forehead before pulling away and getting in his truck. She watched the cloud of dust get smaller and smaller until there was nothing left to see.
She was alone, but never had she felt so united with the the Great Mother before. The sun started to set, but it was still a new dawn for Hania’s legacy.