“Scouting the Wind's Return”

Bathed in the soft amber glow of early spring sunrise, Wíyakȟa, a Lakota warrior, rides along a steep trail rising from the canyon’s shelter. It is the early 1800s, and the cold moons of winter are now behind them. The call of the plains—and the promise of the buffalo hunt—beckons once more.

His buckskin-wrapped frame shifts subtly with the horse’s careful steps, while his rifle rests with readiness across his lap. Wíyakȟa has been chosen to lead the way, to scout the land beyond the canyon, ensuring safe passage for the families, travois, and dreams that follow. The canyon below, blanketed in mist, has served its purpose—offering refuge from winter’s grip. Now, the wind carries scents of blooming sage, and the open prairie lies ahead like an unwritten song.

The ascent is more than physical. It is a return to motion, to cycles of abundance, to the old paths that pulse with meaning. Every hoofbeat rises like a heartbeat from the earth, steady, enduring.