Kiowa brave
The wind swept across the plains that would later be known as Oklahoma, carrying the faint bark of a trickster coyote as Tsen-goy-goo-ah, a seasoned Kiowa brave, peered across the prairie. His dark eyes scanned the horizon, where the Wichita Mountains rose like an eroded red-granite backbone of the ancient range.
This morning, he’d slipped away from the camp near Rainy Mountain, driven by a restless need to prove himself. The elders spoke of a time when Kiowa warriors roamed freely, their horses thundering across these lands, but now the world felt smaller, hemmed in by settlers’ fences and the weight of change. Tsen-goy-goo-ah didn’t dwell on it—he focused on the white-tailed buck browsing on the young leaves of oak shinnery.
With a breath held steady, he drew his bowstring, the arrow’s flint head glinting briefly in the sun. The shot was clean, and the deer fell, a gift for his people. As he approached the still-warm body of the buck, he offered a quiet prayer to the spirits of the land, the words rising like smoke into the vast prairie sky. For Tsen-goy-goo-ah, this was more than meat—it was a thread tying him to the strength of his ancestors, a promise that the Kiowa fire still burned bright in his heart.
___________________
AI image created in Elon Musk's Grok and enhanced in PS. Character is fictional.
Kiowa brave
The wind swept across the plains that would later be known as Oklahoma, carrying the faint bark of a trickster coyote as Tsen-goy-goo-ah, a seasoned Kiowa brave, peered across the prairie. His dark eyes scanned the horizon, where the Wichita Mountains rose like an eroded red-granite backbone of the ancient range.
This morning, he’d slipped away from the camp near Rainy Mountain, driven by a restless need to prove himself. The elders spoke of a time when Kiowa warriors roamed freely, their horses thundering across these lands, but now the world felt smaller, hemmed in by settlers’ fences and the weight of change. Tsen-goy-goo-ah didn’t dwell on it—he focused on the white-tailed buck browsing on the young leaves of oak shinnery.
With a breath held steady, he drew his bowstring, the arrow’s flint head glinting briefly in the sun. The shot was clean, and the deer fell, a gift for his people. As he approached the still-warm body of the buck, he offered a quiet prayer to the spirits of the land, the words rising like smoke into the vast prairie sky. For Tsen-goy-goo-ah, this was more than meat—it was a thread tying him to the strength of his ancestors, a promise that the Kiowa fire still burned bright in his heart.
___________________
AI image created in Elon Musk's Grok and enhanced in PS. Character is fictional.