By Anna Lee Waldo
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Extra resources for Sacajawea
She looked at the round bundle and visualized her grandmother peacefully sleeping. ” Grass Child cried. ” From the far side of the hill came a growling. “Why couldn’t she just have fallen asleep forever? ” Grass Child tore at her tunic in anguish. She thought of the circle of stones on the top of the mountain not far away. It had offered no protection. And she wondered why she had left too late to save this beloved person. Why was the sun hiding? Could it not look upon this terrible Mother Earth?
I wish to surprise my father so he will have moccasins to wear when we move to winter camp. ” Willow Bud held the high-top moccasins up proudly. Old Grandmother sat on her bed of buffalo hides and crooned to herself as she picked out red-and yellow-dyed porcupine quills from a small leather pouch. Her hands shook as she arranged them in a design on the earth. “Turkey tracks,” squealed Willow Bud with delight as she recognized the design. “Old Grandmother, tell us a story while we sew,” begged Grass Child.
It’s a tamarack,” said Rain Girl, “we can go right through. ” They were careful not to walk on the slivered branches as they pushed aside the boughs in front of them and climbed along the huge rough trunk in follow-the-leader fashion. Grass Child straightened—she heard a hiss and thesound of scrambling. She searched through the boughs, holding one to keep her balance. On the other side of the tree she saw a little black bear cub hitching himself up another tamarack, scattering bark and black deer moss with every push of his short legs.