“Peter you must eat even if I have to sit by your side all night long and make you drink at least some broth,” Westin’s mother encouraged her ill son with loving care. The dark rings around the slender twelve year old boy showed proof his disease is furthering along when he responds to his mother’s devotion, “Not hungry mama let me sleep,” Peter turned his head away to watch the winter snowfall out his bedroom window. Lately, Peter had sunken into darkness of sadness after hearing Westin’s dirty deed to the girl who he swears upon his life is special and a gift from God. Over and over the little blonde hair boy tries to process why his bother doomed himself with destruction after messing up a once in a lifetime of happiness with Celeste for the simple fact he didn’t believe there is a higher power of force at work that is not explainable. Slowly he smiles as he drifts off to sleep and dreams he is riding with his blonde hair sister on her white steed to freedom of pain and suffering, in the meadow he first met the kindred spirit of light. His spirit soars to the heavens holding onto the firm waist of his wishful lover as they jump over logs and streams of water with child like merriment. Westin’s mother is worry and knows her son’s time is coming, but doesn’t understand what has taken hold of his good spirited soul, and left her an empty lifeless body. She hears a knock on the door and sets aside the broth she made for her son on the end table near his bed.
Nothing prepped Jean when she opened her front door on a snowy day to a person dressed in Indian garb. “Good day Westin’s mother, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I want to repay you for you’re kindness you bestowed upon me when I was down and out on my luck.” Jean stood flabbergasted staring at Celeste in her beautiful buckskin Indian attire with her bow and arrows on her back and covered in snow. She remembers the beautiful clothing when snooping around Celeste’s home. Jean immediately knows she is gawking with her mouth open wide in surprise to have Celeste show up at this time with her face painted in red war paint matching her yellow and red beaded head band. She moves her head around Celeste’s body when she hears a horse snorting out his puff of air. The big painted brown and white draft horse is loaded with a dead deer upon his back, she can’t speak from the magical sight she is capturing when Celeste smiles at her and asked her a simple question. “Is Westin home?” Jean blinks out of her stupefied stance and hears Peter laughing. She turns her attention to Peter’s room and opens her door for Celeste to come in. “No thank you, I only need Westin to take the deer I killed for your family off my horse and process the meat as soon as possible.” Jean comes to attention and tells her Westin hasn’t been home for days. “If you show me a place where I can cut up the meat to freeze, I would be more than happy to do it for you.” Jean is torn to check on her son’s joyous laughter when a huge black blob almost knocks her down and races to Peter’s room. Celeste barks out an order to the damn dog but it lies on deafen ear drums. Jean bolts after the snow covered dog, Celeste had no choice but to step inside Westin’s home to follow suit.
Celeste is upset that she is tracking snow on their carpet with her moccasins and Indian garb, and hears a child’s gleeful scream. The huntress stops her footsteps before entering the bedroom, an is overwhelmed by a powerful force collapsing her lungs from all air of life. She tries to breathe deeply to control the urge to gasp for breath. She hears Jean’s laughter and a little boys voice when she shakes off the ill feelings and takes the plunge to walk into the room to retrieve her dog. “Hi boy where did you come from?” The sick boy brighten up his tone when the mighty wet beast licked his face. Celeste is a statue unable to move a muscle standing still under the door frame when her eyes laid claim to the boy she remembers in a dream she had. The dog whines a sorry out to Celeste and moves away from the little boy. Peter turned bleach white staring at his dream girl. Jean is rocked to dumbness as she senses a spirit or some sorts enter the room. She gives her little adopted boy a wonder eye and then cast her attention to the mysterious essences of the huntress. Jean doesn’t remember sensing Celeste having energy that would make a human cower to their knees until now, she tries to blink out of her odd evaluation of the Indian girl who has cast a spell upon her family. Celeste pays Jean’s confusion no mind and focus’s on the sick little boy. “Ahoy, little brother of the light,” Celeste chimed out with a smile on her lips in Cherokee language. Peter is stunned and wide eyed, he tries to utter a greeting back to his beautiful cowgirl, but found he had no voice. Celeste scowls at the black wet beast for misbehaving, the dog knew he did wrong and lays down beside Peter on the floor to hide his face with his paws. Jean begins to shed tears of hope for her son as she senses a power is alive in the room of doom. Peter sits up and rubs his eyes to make sure he isn’t dreaming again. ‘Its you cowgirl,” Celeste softens her grace and walks over to Peter. Peter’s mother is totally floored hearing Peter call her cowgirl, immediately she becomes angry with Westin for not informing her who Celeste really was. It takes her a split second to put two and two together about the girl Peter spoke about aimlessly who is the Bronco Rider, and who stole her little boy’s heart. Jean forgets about being upset with her other son, and relishes in her teary eye magical moment Celeste visiting Peter. Celeste in her husky voice whispers out, “Time for our ride young buck, are you ready?” Peter is smiling from ear to ear and stretches his feeble skinny arm out with his palms opened wide for her to touch in brotherhood.
picture by: bing search