Manabozho Fall had set in early this year and the tribe would need to travel west for food. The signs were clear that this would be a hard winter for them. Manabozho still couldn’t pull the images of the white settlers hanging women for the same thing he does to keep his people healthy. What would they do to him if they ever found out he healed people too? That night after dinner, he went out to pray alone to the Great Spirit. He should be able to guide him as what to do to avoid the white man’s rope. While meditating, a large black wolf approached him, its red eyes glaring. Manabozho stayed calm. The animal would have attacked if it was meant to harm him. He took it as a sign from the Great Spirit. He encouraged the animal to come closer. The wolf snarled and snapped. “What are you trying to tell me?” The beast didn’t talk to him like humans but through his thoughts. “Your spirit must become one with mine or you will never be strong enough to fight the white interlopers.” “How do I do that?” “Your too weak. You will never do what is necessary to become a part of me. My ancestors are great and many. We have survived where man has died.” “I will do anything to save my people from the white settlers.” Manabozho was afraid the wolf would leave him, thinking he was too frail to serve his people. The wolf lowered his head, red eyes piercing the dark. “A loved one must die and their flesh consumed by only you.” The shock of the wolf’s words rattled Manabozho to the bones. The practice went against anything he ever believed in. “I cannot. I will not. The Great Spirit did not send you. A demon sent you.” “No demon sent me.” “Then who?” “I came because you called me. Your desire to keep the white interlopers rope from around your neck brought me out of the darkness. I am what’s inside of you. Become one with me and never be weak again.” “Is there another way?” “Only death.”