Reservations in the Reservation

Shitting-Dog sat outside his teepee contemplating life. Puffing on his pipe, he questioned the fairness of the world. His friends, Soaring-Eagle and Drifting-Cloud could be heard laughing, no doubt cavorting with the village girls. His thoughts moved on to Dancing-Fox and her big brown eyes that he could spend an eternity lost in. He thought of all the clever things he would say to her and she would stare back at him, biting her lower lip, her chest heaving in anticipation of his touch. He shifted uncomfortably against the roughness of his loincloth.

Now was the time, he would face his fears. It was time his dream became reality. He would tell Dancing-Fox exactly how he felt and damn the consequences! He stood up, straightened his loin cloth and strode confidently towards the village center. It's now or never. Dancing-Fox was sat by the fire, alone, the red light flickering across her tanned skin. Do or die. He approached her; her endlessly deep eyes watched the flames dance. This was it.

She looked up at him; a smile flickered across her plump lips. An uncomfortable number of seconds passed as he scrambled for purchase as an avalanche of fear tumbled over him.

"Uhm, hau", he spluttered.

She smiled back, "hau".

Shitting-Dog walked past, drew himself a cup of water that he did not want and returned to his loneliness.