He stood before me silently for a few seconds, his gaze measuring me from head to toe. Then he did the something that paralyzed me and sent shivers down my spine. He smiled. It was broad and completely devoid of warmth. Then he extended his hand, offering me a handshake I would never take.
Read MoreLaughter pierced the fog as I struggled to get back on my feet. I shook my head, slowly adjusting as the world finally stopped spinning. I looked up at my three assailants. One was spinning a chain menacingly, one a pitchfork, and the third held the shovel that they’d already introduced to the back of my head. More menacing than the weapons they were brandishing were their eyes.
Read MoreAfter about an hour’s worth of tossing and turning, I finally gave in and reached for my phone. A simple search was all it took to find the information I needed. As much as I wanted to continue on toward home, I couldn’t just let the image of an elder lady in distress about things she couldn’t confront. This is what I was trained for.
Read MoreI knew just then that this was the place for me. My first exposure to Native Americans was when I was eleven. Grandfather had me reading The Last of the Mohicans along with a grueling eight-week practice course with spears and hatchets. The book was brilliant, and I was instantly hooked. I could not get enough, so I kept reading whatever I could find. I was fascinated with their way of life and often fancied myself as one of them.
Read MoreAnd that was my upbringing. That was my lot in life. A lot more gore and a lot less…and they lived happily ever after. As I grew, so did my training. Why read about Robin Hood without taking up archery? The Three Musketeers came with years of fencing. When the stories were finished, the training remained. Eventually, I was weaned off the books, but the training was always there.
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