“I am very lonesome, I am very lonesome.” “Many days have gone by.”
“Through the hills I look for you.”
“I tell the stars in heaven,”
“That I love you.”
-Comanche Round Dance Song
It was night.
The air around him was cool, stimulating the prickled hairs covering his skin. A smoldering fire cackled. The sound of a ticking bug tickled the inside of his ear, crawling deep into the dripping, barren crevice. The voices of the plains sang in the soft breeze, a somber systematic tune His head hung below his shoulder blades. Drying blood trickled down his chin, caked,- smeared onto his parchment. His open gashes began scab over; flakes of dead vellum peeled away, plaguing the plain, air with the stench of rotting flesh.
From behind an amber teepee held steady by the bones of those who’ve fallen, three sacred beings, the council members, emerged. They were dressed in solemn robes that looped liberally around their narrow bodies. Black streaks of thick chroma swiped under the eye, stretching towards the ear and arching in place of their eyebrows where they met at the bridge of the nose. All three stared at him, eyes darker than the blackest night, emptier than the most cloudless day.
Golden specks shimmered in the light of the fire, illuminating the beauty of the evanescence flames.
“Priest Quanah.” The middleman spoke first, stepping forward, their long braid sweeping sideways at their back. “Have you found your corruption?” The priest chuckled.
“Corruption…” Quanah snorted, choking up blood as his laugher subsided. “The only thing about me that’s corrupt, is the blood that links me to this tribe.” The middleman swung back his hand, smacking the priest across his busted cheek.
“You dare make a mockery of our covenant?” the middleman questioned. “You dare speak illey of our society?” Spitting out a chunk of blood, the pries leaned against nothing as he leaned back against the board, his eyes blank,
