Whispering Willow was the sweetest, the softest,
The best loved by far.
Her father was the chief and life was good.
She was free to weave her tapestries,
Her stories etched in slippery silk and rough wool,
But they never satisfied her deep-rooted hunger;
It was a heart-heavy hunger.

One night Whispering Willow was restless,
Tired of weaving, eager for movement.
She crept under cover of darkness,
Walking many miles until she chanced upon
The mighty Ã?hasêstse’ó Falls.
She sat on a rock, listening to the water roar,
Divining its secrets.

That same night Swift Wind found himself restless, too,
Tired of roaming prairie and plain,
He crept under cover of darkness,
Walking many miles until he chanced upon
The mighty Ã?hasêstse’ó Falls.
There he saw a beautiful maiden with midnight hair
And obsidian eyes, and he felt the stirring of fate.