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Uploaded on Feb 8, 2007
Returning to the path toward the stream the smell of death almost made him gag. I need to get to the stream and wash my face. This has to be a dream. From behind him came a voice: "It is not a dream, N'gsisak." Talking Coyote turned and Red Hair shape-shifted from a spruce tree to a man. He spoke again, "This is very real. They are all dying. You must help them."
Red Hair was dressed in only a breechclout, and his white skin, although tanned, was still a white man. "I am not afraid of you, white man who speaks Le-nape. You are not a danger to me." If only Talking Coyote could convince his mind of that bravado. On the verge of cracking and running for his life, he decided to speak for some reason. "Why do you bother my dreams?" "You are incorrect on three things. I speak Lenape because I am Lenape, not a white man. I am no danger to you, and I do not bother your dreams." Red Hair smiled and sat in front of Talking Coyote. "Smoke with me, my son," he said, as he removed a pipe from a plain leather bag. The pipe was anything but ordinary. It shined like the silver of a full moon on a still lake. It was not metal but actually made from water.