Now here is where opinions differ. (It has been twenty years.)

My daughter swears I screamed and ran into the cabin.

I remember seeing a tall native American boy standing before me. His hair was long and wrapped around itself. His pants were made of some kind of skin and loosely sewed together on the side. He put his hand on my shoulder. At least I think he did. I didn't feel his hand.

"Running Deer?" he asked me. "Are you Running Deer?"

As impossible as it seems, I was able to understand his words. He wasn't speaking English of course, but I knew what he was saying.

"Sorry," I answered. "I'm not Running Deer."

He looked so sad. My heart ached for him. I reached out my hand to comfort him just as he disappeared.