Cloud Eagle the Indian slept. His had been a long life and he was weary. In his bones he knew his time on Earth was coming to an end.

When he was young he had been an angry young man. During the 1970s he had been an activist in the Native American Civil Rights Movement. In the 1980s he had taken a more spiritual path. For many years he had studied with the elders and taken vision quests in the Black Hills of Dakota. Many a sweat lodge they had been built in the wilds of the Badlands far from prying eyes and interfering law enforcers.

In the late 1990s he had began to travel the world. Taking his peace pipe with him he had spoken to anyone who would listen of the need to work together to heal Mother Earth. He could still recall the bright eager eyes of the young people who had come to hear him. So many had been white. Their presence had inspired him to keep travelling but, as he aged, he liked long distance travel less and less.

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