In the cold dusty desolate desert echoed with a soft whisper . Ancient mysteries lingered with the skin of the saguaro cactus. The dark and edging shadows stood. Still and composed, in the distance footsteps with calamity were made. Along the trail the small sounds of creatures lurked in the bushes. The bushes crackled with laughter. The native woman sat down . She took the feather of her ancestors and held in the air and let the wind dance against it . She closed her eyes. Her eyes caught the same moon that would bring her husband back. She closed her eyes and let the breeze embrace her .