Sometimes I miss the hills, the plains, the mountains, the red, the brown, the gold of the land that I haven't seen for a while. The times I traveled the rivers, following the swimming fish. The times I knew the Stallions, the Wolves, the Eagles, the Snakes, as my brothers and sisters. The times we bathed together in the fresh spring waters. The times we told our stories around the crinkling coals, of burned out fires. The times we listened to the hum of the land and followed her lead when she...