Today I Will Fly

The first draft: original ideas scribbled on random sheets of paper
Crow Tribe: Plains Indians(Montana,Wyoming), experts in horsemanship, carving, and painting. Named for the "Big beaked bird" and known for their beautiful long hair. The Crow were fierce hunters. Men won status for bravery in battle and expert hunting, earning them the Ponies of their enemies and inferiors. Women of the tribe were the primary home makers and builders of dwellings, which were taken down and moved during migration. The Crow are a strong people, and adapted well to the changes in the Great American West!

Small, Brown, Strong, Little Feather clutches his finely carved cedar pony as he gazes out upon endless waves of green grassy plains. Pure earth and sky reaching far and high, interrupted only by jagged rocky cliffs. Scream, Power, Gleam the shiny deep brown wings of an Eagle taking flight. Higher and higher it climbs into the endless azure sky. Little Feather follows it's flight until it is out of sight, "We will be brothers mighty Eagle, for today I will fly." declares Little Feather as he stands there on the plains, somewhere between green earth and endless bright blue sky.
Blow, Rush, Go racing across wise grass bent low by the wild wind. Little Feather's legs rush faster and faster, his feet land soft and swift in the light brown dirt. Leap the bending stream, dash around the thorns and briers of the berry bushes that lead to the dusty path up the hill as fast as he can climb, and suddenly Stop! There at the top of the hill that looks down upon his people's camp, there he stands, holding his breath for now he is sure that today he will Fly!
Strong, Sleek, Silver, Brown; the pony that Little Feather's father has won. "This will be your pony, and you will learn to ride. It is time for you to fly, my Little Feather." loving and strong come the words from his lips.
Closer, as he begins to touch a velvet nose of silver. Little Feather's hand follows down the neck and shoulder of quivering deep soft brown. Eyes meet, locked in a gaze of forever love reflected back he sees chestnut eyes full of wild and play. Leap to the back of a storm, and the mane of silver lightning fills Little Feather's face as the power is unleashed!
Rip, Twist, Whip, Crash in a puff of dust Little Feather is thrown to the dirt. Again! sounds Father Big. Tears sting Little Feather's eyes like nettle, he wipes them away and jumps up again. Leap, Crash, Leap at last! Little Feather squeezes his little legs tightly around the girth of the spirited creature and does not let go. Dart, Rush, Twist, Up the pony whirls in every direction but Little Feather does not blow off this time. Fast into the racing wind they rush, and then, Little Feather yells out, "You are strong and swift my pony, but I am as wild as you are! Today we are brothers, for today is the day that I CAN FLY!"
Quick, Pound, Racing, Ground with every hoof beat, the sound of beating drums echoes in Little Feather's ears. The wind whips and whistles past as they two, now one, rush head first into endless meadows of earth and sky. Dusty fingers and silver mane are entangled tightly against his face. Little Feather now feels of lightning in his veins and thunder in his chest that time nor distance could ever erase. On and on they speed, dark hair whipping along with the silver mane of the wild steed.
High above the mighty Eagles cry, "Today we are brothers Little Feather, for today is the day that you can Fly!"