This is our first drug foraging trip this year. Again the task has fallen to the woman warrior society. The young post-reservation hotheads have finally taken over the men’s societies. They think its sacrilege to rummage the ruined cities of the Passing People. With each summer we’re gliding further and further into the lifestyle that has nourished our people over thousands of years. We are all of one heart in this. Our future lies in the past, now that history has come full circle. The vé’hó’e always believed that history runs in lines, preferably aiming for the sky. Our people have always known that anyone who follows that path must sooner or later come crashing down. How terribly right we were…

The young warriors in our group know only a handful of English words. They have never known the world in which I grew up. Sometimes I wonder if what we have regained really offsets all that what lost since the Turn.

The Turn… most who lived through it saw it as a sheer catastrophe. For us it was simply the rise of the seventh generation, the seventh generation after our fight for our freedom, our way of life had seemingly been lost forever. How wonderfully wrong we were…

The ruined cities of the Passing People are treacherous places, filled to the brim with the ghosts of the dead. I have to reign in the young ones, their curiosity could kill them at any corner in this dangerous labyrinth. Some vé’hó’e survivors are still hunkered down in the cellars of the ruins. Most of them are hostile to the People and many appear to have lost their minds. The militias have booby-trapped many places, and we know that their Indian-hunting gangs are out there, searching for us. When we meet them we neither give nor expect quarter. When we kill them, we take their scalps and send them as cut-up body wrecks into the afterworld. It’s good that they fear us because they are terrible enemies. Luckily, we still have enough RPG warheads from the Mexican cartels to keep their vehicles and helicopters at bay. Aénȯhé'ke has proven to be a very capable RPG fighter. I pray every day their stinking machines may soon run out of their last fuel. Hopefully our wolves will soon find their fuel depot that is rumoured to be further south…

I hate this monster of a city. But there is no other place left to search for what we need. The suburbs have been looted over and over for so many summers that there isn’t a single pack of Aspirin left between Longmont and here. I must make sure we’re out of here by dusk…

Netséméóná'e [Eagle Road Woman] always leads on our trips to the dead cities. Netsé understands all the talking signs. She can put them together and say the words in the ve'ho'e language. She learned such things as a child, long ago during the seven dark generations. We usually travel to the dead cities for medicine. Old vé'ho'e medicine for old vé'ho'e illnesses which many of our old people suffer from, like the sugar sickness, for instance. During the seven dark generations the People lived in poverty and despair and only had bad food full of bad sugar which made them sick. So we scour the ruins for stacks of insulin. Which is getting increasingly pointless. Seventeen summers old insulin does hardly more good than bad...

Another thing that doesn't spoil as easily are vé'ho'e weapons. Some of us still use them. The dead cities are dangerous places. Some vé'hó'e, most of them crazy, still live in the ruins. The nótaxevé'hó'e, the white soldiers who call themselves militias, also scour the ruins. Occasionally we have sharp fights with them. Eše'héméóná'e [Sun Road Woman], armed with bow and arrows, is a silent killer. Netséméóná'e is armed with an iron bow with a looking tube with which she can kill enemies hundreds of paces away. And I carry the fire spear with which I go after the big targets. Last summer I took out a pick-up full of militia vé'hó'e. And in spring I knocked a fly-machine out of the sky. My heart soared as the dreaded fly- machine came crashing down in flames. I no longer fear the throbbing sound of the spinning flyblades as they slice through the air high above. I even long for that sound now. I keep scanning the sky for this predator. Last night I dreamt that I would shoot down another one. Dreams never lie. Today my fire spear will find its mark again. My name is Hawk Woman. I will do my name honor. The predator of the skies will be my prey…

Poser Pro 2014 Marvellous Designer UV Mapper Pro Gimp 2.6 Reality 4.1.1 Plugin LuxRender 1.5

Fantastic image and great decor !

Thanks! ;)

Fantastic

My pleasure!

Marvelous job! Great composition and sense of depth. I like the clothing mixture and the modern weapons decorated with native coverings. You've made it look way to realistic for comfort.

Coooomfort Ye...! ;)

At first my reaction was ..."What the...?", but as I started reading I fully understood. I have read some of the Indian accounts of the different suns. And this is the beginning of the 7th sun. Given time, all humans and animals will live in peace with each other in a natural way, more like the way the Indians once lived before the white man came. Telepathy will be common, both between humans and humans - animals.Great job juxtaposing the Indians with the ruined city. And very believable account! Keep up the good work! :-)

Thanks, but you haven't seen the militia yet. Doesn't look like tghey would live in peace wit the Indians. But that's for another render. ;)