I peeled off her skin and there was fur, I peeled off the
fur and there was down, a peeled off down and there were
scales, and then there was nothing but her voice as it was
in the beginning. "I am clouds" she said, and "I am soil,"
and I was the rain inbetween coming down, and then the
morning mist, rising up. We evolved as separate species,
occupied different ecosystems, shed tears of different
chemical composition, and it was getting late. So, I put on
my raincoat, and then my medals, my bow and arrow, and the
clan mask, and took the long way back. It was a pleasant
winter overall. I had a good stock of dried salmon, oil
enough to read every night, and tobacco for Sundays. And
when I sang the song of the Four Mothers, she would come
again:

Oh mother, crawling over the earth
Fast tail, darting tongue
Oh mother, gliding over the lake
White wing, black crown
Oh mother, running through the forest
Prickly ears, sharp claws
Oh mother, walking around my cabin
Weary feet, shining brow

At night, the wind blows, and I hear familiar ghosts
knocking outside. I sleep on the soil, cover myself with
clouds.