““But the truth was--though I wouldn't realize this until later--I had felt summoned: by my aunt and her prayers; by the lake in which my grandmother had bobbed in pain; by my dad's conscience, or lack thereof, and his hills; by the wind; by a neighbor boy who would tell me only the second time I ever talked to him that the color of my eyes (a drab gray, I'd always thought) reminded him of the sky up north on the reservation, right before nightfall, when Sasquatch warned hunters to get out of the woods and coyotes roamed along the roads and fences white men built over ancient paths.””
