’Tom let his horse pick his on gait and rode the trail back to town. He was proud of his horse and knew all the times they had ran across the prairi... for hours at a time had put strength in a horse that was already full of heart and spirit from his breeding.Once again Tom pulled his flute from it’s cylinder and blew the light dust off the long wooden tube. He gently touched his lips to the piece as he rode the big horse slowly back to town. The soft drifting sounds carried across the open. I'd had the bag already with a small feather from what we believed to be a Peregrine Falcon when we went on vacation one year just before school started again. The hawk had been on the ground and took off as we approached. The feather kind of flew around and I chased it down. My dad said I should make a 'medicine bag' like the American Indians, or as some preferred Native Americans, use to do years ago. Of course any seven year old being told something that by his father, it might just as well. More

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